


Words Have Power (And Yours Have None)

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emperor Lotor (Voltron), Gang Rape, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Manipulation, Manipulative Lotor (Voltron), Other, Protective Keith (Voltron), Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: After disagreeing with Lotor on his battle plans involving Voltron the last thing Lance expected was for Lotor to extend an invitation to him to meet with his High Council and speak on behalf of Voltron. But that’s what happened and Lance isn’t going to waste this opportunity to show Voltron (to show Allura and Shiro) that he can be a leader too.He should have known it was too good to be true.Lotor hasn’t brought Lance to his palace to help him. He’s here because Lotor wants to teach him a lesson: that Lance is weak, he’s powerless, and his words mean absolutely nothing. And shame and fear are the best teaching tools of them all.
Relationships: Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Lance & Lotor (Voltron), Lance & Red Lion (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) & Everyone, Lance (Voltron) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 1164
Kudos: 687





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** early-mid season six  
>  **Warning notes:** rape, gang rape, sexual assault, sexual content, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, manipulation. Some scenes are rather graphic and those respective chapters have been marked with further warnings of sexual content, but given the nature of the fic various sexual content can appear at any time. Please consider these warnings and potential triggers to decide if this is a story you feel safe to read. The story will ultimately be a recovery fic of the sexual assault acts; however, a large majority of the story does take place pre-recovery and there is no comfort during those parts.

“—at which point the Voltron Lions will then move into position to attack the ion cannon of the outpost and continue to draw the defensive fire while my soldiers then infiltrate the base and proceed with the takeover and recovery of the quintessence containers,” Lotor finished with, looking out at the gathered Paladins in various on the bridge’s transmission screen and Lance tried not to bristle as his gaze lingered on Allura. “Are there any questions?”

“No,” Shiro said automatically, as he always did these days when Lotor presented a plan.

Plans that generally involved Voltron stepping in to help Lotor regain bases and outposts from Galrans who had chosen not to support Lotor as emperor and had splintered into rebel factions, the most powerful being The Fire of Purification headed by Sendak, who absolutely was a very bad guy.

And so Lance understood the importance of the missions, of how vital it was that the Galra Empire take back control (and _Dios,_ that sounded so so weird even after a whole month of working alongside the Empire) but…

But he didn’t understand why _Voltron_ always had to be on the front lines, in the most dangerous spots — and Hunk had gotten _hurt_ badly enough to need the pod just last week on one of Lotor’s designed missions — and…

And it wasn’t _right._

Lance had sworn to be a Paladin, to protect others, and for over a year now he had done so proudly.

But right now all they seemed to do was fight the Empire’s battles for them. It was like Shiro and Allura had forgotten all the months that Lotor had fought _against_ them, had only joined their side when he had literally lost all power on his own. 

Lance knew what it was like to want fame and recognition. But Lotor didn’t just want those things… he wanted power and it unnerved Lance a bit to see not just how quickly he’d gotten it but how much power he held over Shiro and Allura, who never disagreed with his requests and when Lance had originally protested he’d been told by Shiro that this was for the good of the universe and it would do no one any good to present anything but a united front. The Coalition needed the Galra Empire alliance, the Galra Empire needed Voltron and, well..

Here they were. 

Again.

He glanced sideways at Hunk, who was looking down at his hands, clasped atop his control board, and he remembered how a week ago those hands had been covered in blood as they pressed to the gaping wound on Hunk’s stomach.

Lance took a breath.

And he stood up from his seat.

“I have a question.”

Lotor’s lips curled into an indulgent smile and Lance did his best not to scowl back. “Yes, Lance?” he asked and the sound of his own name from Lotor made his toes curl.

He hated when Lotor called them by their names, as though they were friends, and somehow it always sounded to Lance like Lotor was laughing at his.

“Why is Voltron drawing fire from the ion cannon?” Lance asked. “We could be securing the back exit and assisting the—”

“Did you not hear a word I said?” Lotor interrupted him and while Lance had never seen a Galran roll their eyes he could feel the intent. “The Voltron Lions are necessary—”

“No, we’re not,” Lance said. “You could do this without us, easy.”

“Lance!” Shiro admonished, and Lance was both torn between curling his shoulders in at Shiro’s disappointed stare and standing taller at the fact Shiro was reprimanding him for interrupting when he hadn’t done the same to Lotor.

It wasn’t _fair._

“No, no, let the boy speak,” Lotor waved a hand and Lance grit his teeth at both the address and the way Shiro immediately did so. “Voltron is a team after all and everyone’s opinions should be heard.”

And just like that Lance could feel the momentum and power shift back to Lotor’s side, his cultured, accented tones and offer a direct contrast to Lance’s outburst.

A man to a child.

And…

And, stomach clenching and his cheeks heating ever so, Lance knew which one Allura preferred. 

He swallowed, straightened, and tried to keep his voice even to show that he _wasn’t_ some child and he wasn’t just arguing with Lotor because he was Lotor. “I just think it would make more sense for Voltron to secure the rear exit,” Lance said. “The Yellow Lion is still being repaired from the last battle, which decreases Voltron’s ability to block the ion cannon, whereas the Empire’s heavier transport ships could take that hit no problem _and_ since the ion cannon is stationary they could easily return fire. It just doesn’t make sense to endanger the Lions _and_ their pilots in _this_ particular mission.”

Pidge let out a low whistle behind him and it made Lance stand just a little straighter.

Yes.

What he’d said made sense. It kept his team safe. And he’d made the notation that he didn’t want to not assist or take the lead in the future, but that for this mission it served little purpose. He knew he wasn’t the smartest, would never be the best tactician, but…

But this made _sense._

What did they have to gain by endangering themselves, _again,_ when a safer solution was right in front of them? 

And then it made Lance wonder _why_ Lotor was so insistent the Lions take the lead. What, exactly, did he want to happen? 

But he kept those thoughts to himself because any even perceived attack on Lotor’s loyalty had invoked Shiro’s “He-is-our-ally-we-must-present-a-united-front” speech complete with a disappointed look and that wasn’t what this was about. And then, there had been that one horrible time where Shiro had _yelled_ at him, that it was _his_ decision and Lance needed to _back off_ and he’d never forgotten that, how small it had made him feel to be yelled at by Shiro just because he’d voiced a differing opinion. Shiro always used to listen, always used to make decisions with the whole team, but lately now it was Shiro’s decision or it was Lotor’s.

And Lance didn’t like it.

It didn’t make him feel safe. 

And, and if he could do this right, make a valid case and show them that he was capable of strategy too, then maybe if he spoke up again…

Shiro would listen.

Allura would listen. And maybe… maybe she’d look at him like the way she looked at Lotor.

But, but even if she didn’t, that’s not what this was about right now.

It was about protecting his team.

_Not_ Lotor’s bases.

And as Lance looked at Lotor’s face…

He’d lost his amusement.

Lance resisted the urge to smirk.

_Finally._

“An interesting observation,” Lotor said after a moment, “and not an illogical one. However, I must insist on my original outline as planned due to the Lions’ versatility and speed that my cruisers and certainly my transports cannot match. But,” he held up a hand, “this has indeed opened my eyes to some… issues,” his lips quirked up, “that must be addressed in my planning. Perhaps, Lance, you would be so willing to meet with several of my generals and my own council to share your insights so we all might learn from one another?”

Lance’s eyes widened.

What?

Lotor was suggesting _what?_

He wanted _Lance’s_ opinion? He was treating him as… as an _equal?_

Lance wouldn’t say he found himself speechless very often but he wasn’t quite sure what to say except for a very unintelligible “huh?” and he bit his tongue to contain that particular response.

Lotor didn’t admit mistakes. He didn’t acknowledge anyone other than Shiro and Allura.

And yet, right now...

“I think it is an excellent idea,” Allura said into the silence and Lance turned his attention to her and away from Lotor’s piercing purple and yellow gaze and the smile she graced him with made butterflies start the quickstep in his stomach. 

“Thank you, Allura,” Lotor said smoothly and the butterflies hit an abrupt stop.

Of course.

Of course this wasn’t actually about Lance and growing his diplomacy skills, but about Lotor impressing Allura.

And, okay, maybe while that was the ultimate reason it didn’t negate the offer and it gave Lance a chance too to impress Allura.

“I agree with the princess,” Lance said and based on the barest flicker across Lotor’s face he’d more than caught the emphasis of who Lance had sided with. 

“Excellent,” Lotor’s lips curled up into a smile that felt more like a smirk to Lance but he couldn’t say why. “Is tomorrow too soon to request your presence, Lance? I have a council meeting at three hundred hours so perhaps say twelve hundred? I would of course wish to have you stay for the evening dinner and given the late hour quarters would be provided so you are well rested for the impending recovery of the Vlioan outpost.”

“That Empire forces will be leading,” Lance smiled back tightly, not missing that little addendum even though he was actually….

He was _excited_ by the invitation. 

This was his chance, the opening he’d been waiting for. It really sucked that Lotor was the one ultimately providing it, but… but maybe this was a step in the right direction for them all. Lotor was extending an olive branch and Lance would tentatively take it.

“We shall see,” Lotor smiled. “I think I may be able to sway you to see the logistics from my side.”

“We shall see,” Lance smiled back.

“Assuming that is,” Lotor looked away from Lance towards Allura and Shiro, “this timing is acceptable to you? I do not wish to take your Paladin if his presence is required here.”

Lance fought to keep his hands loose at his sides, at the fact there wasn’t a barb in those words and that Lotor was not asking Shiro and Allura for permission like he was a child going to a sleepover.

It wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t. 

“The timing is sound,” Allura said, “and factors in well with our upcoming mission. Lance, Shiro?”

Lance’s smile became more natural and he straightened up because no matter the connotation of Lotor’s query, Allura was putting his opinion equal to Shiro’s. 

“Sounds good to me,” Lance said, giving an easy, casual shrug that he hoped hid the sudden bout of nerves assaulting him.

He couldn’t screw this up. 

“No objections here,” Shiro said.

“Then I shall expect you at twelve hundred hours tomorrow, Lance,” Lotor summoned back his attention. “I look forward to our discussion. I think it will be very…” his lip quirked up, “enlightening for us both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission fic (40k) for an anonymous commissioner. This story is being posted on AO3 due to its M-rating. 
> 
> And oh, Lotor. How I love writing your delicious, manipulative demeanor and speech so. Truly, one of my favorite villains and so many missed opportunities in canon. I'm happy to assist ;) If you are enjoying the fanfic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments (and the small details make my day). Thank you ♥


	2. Two

This was it. His moment. His chance.

Lance could not screw it up. 

It was why he’d taken every precaution to make sure he presented his best front to Lotor and his council and generals so that when he reported back to Voltron the next day he could do so with pride.

He had sat with Hunk and Pidge as they quizzed him on the names of Lotor’s council members (that they knew of). He’d consulted with Coran for any Galran etiquette he should be aware of for the dinner. He’d looked over the plans for the Vlioan outpost mission so there was no room for Lotor to trip him up and went over the mission logs from the last several missions that Voltron had took point on for the Empire to use as reference. 

He had put on a face mask and gone to bed early, determined to get a good night of sleep. A hot shower the next morning had his hair gleaming and skin glowing, and he’d spent the time between it and breakfast practicing more serious but still sincere smiles and nods and trying to pitch his voice lower (which he gave up on as Lotor would surely call him out on it and everyone would laugh at him and he’d really rather not have that happen) and show them he could be a mature, responsible adult too (even if his freshly turned eighteen years to Lotor’s ten thousand was laughable). 

After breakfast, in which he’d barely eaten as nerves were making a comeback despite Hunk’s cajoling, he’d retreated back to his room to polish his armor to a shine as he was not going to allow one imperfection mar his appearance, and then he’d slowly dressed.

His hands had been shaking.

Excitement, Lance told himself. It was excitement.

It’s not like he was… was _scared._ Or nervous.

Not one bit.

He’d packed a bag of pajamas and toiletries and a change of underwear and socks, let out a breath, popped his head into Hunk’s room to tell him good bye and received a giant hug and a whisper that Lance was going to do _great_ and then made his way to Red’s hangar.

Where Allura had been waiting.

Lance’s heart might have done a flip-flop. 

_“I came to see you off,”_ she’d said, as they had decided Lance would fly to Lotor’s base — not even three hours out from their current location — without the aid of a wormhole so as to conserve the castle’s resources for the jump tomorrow, “ _and I was told by Coran to tell you to… mend a leg?”_

Her nose had wrinkled at that and Lance had huffed a laugh, feeling some of the nerves disappearing, at Coran’s butchering (purposely, the Altean had sniffed, as breaking legs for well wishing was abhorrent and what was wrong with humans?) of the phrase and the sentiment behind it. 

_“I also wished to say,”_ and she’d stepped up to him, one of her hands landing on Lance’s shoulder and he’d prayed she couldn’t hear his thudding heartbeat, “ _that I know you shall do Voltron proud.”_

And, well, with that Lance had no choice but to do so as he could not, would not, disappoint Allura.

He’d gotten himself calmed down in the flight, Red not able to ease his worries as he knew Blue would have done, but that was all right as Lance was trying to prove himself right now and having Red’s indifference was excellent practice for how he wanted to approach Lotor’s council.

Friendly, but not too friendly. Charming, but not too much. Remember that a wink in Galran culture denoted an intent to kill and definitely not to do that. No finger guns. He had to be poised, confident, and everything a Paladin of Voltron should be.

And now…

Here he was.

A cruiser had met him as he approached Lotor’s palace and guided him to a hangar. He’d been instructed to proceed inside and to wait in the chamber off of the hangar hallway.

Well…

Lance had found it without any trouble given it was the only non-hangar room on the hall before a flight of stairs and it was decorated like an office waiting room although it was missing the magazines and was definitely nicer than most with two large, plush couches and matching chair set.

But he’d been waiting for almost thirty minutes now. Granted, that could be on him as he’d been so paranoid about being late that he’d ended up nearly twenty minutes early and he should have asked Coran if showing up early was considered rude in Galran culture.

Had he already screwed up?

Lance made another pacing circle around the room, too antsy to sit, and wondered if this was some sort of test. Was Lotor watching to see how long he would wait for? Was Lance supposed to leave and try to find Lotor? Was Lotor just genuinely running late?

Just before the fifteen minute mark there was the sound of footsteps in the hallway and Lance froze before angling himself to face the door.

Lotor appeared a moment later, expression surprisingly contrite and also surprisingly dressed down and Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him without his armor before.

“I do apologize for my del—” he cut himself off with a sharp inhale as his eyes locked on Lance. “What in Gaia’s name are you wearing?”

Lance looked down at his armor, as pristine as he’d put it on that morning as he hadn’t even allowed himself to snack on the trip over to avoid any potential smears or crumbs. 

What was Lotor’s problem with it? He’d worn it the first and last time he’d visited the palace, shortly after Lotor had been crowned emperor. 

“Um,” Lance resisted the urge to fidget under Lotor’s piercing stare, “my ar—?”

“You wear a suit of war into my private council chambers?” Lotor interrupted him. “Lance, Lance, Lance,” he clucked his tongue, “have you no decorum?”

Lance felt his cheeks heating and _Dios,_ he _was_ messing everything up. But, but Coran hadn’t said anything and neither had Allura and what exactly had Lotor wanted him to come in, his street clothes? Those would have been too casual and insulting for sure, but…

All of the confidence he’d been trying to build seemed to be evaporating and he hadn’t even left the receiving chamber yet.

“I’m,” he swallowed, trying to keep his voice level, “I’m sorry, I didn’t kn—”

“Take it off,” Lotor interrupted him again, waving a hand. 

Lance blinked.

What?

Take off his armor? 

“Now, Lance,” Lotor said. “Unless,” his lips pulled into a smirk, “you stall because you require assistance like a child?” 

Lance flushed. 

He didn’t move.

If he took off his armor he’d have his underarmor, but… but while it was okay to go around in the castle in it following or leading up to training, and while he knew he looked good in it thank you very much, it wasn’t something he felt comfortable walking around Lotor’s palace in.

That wasn’t the impression he’d wanted to make. 

Lance took a breath.

And raised his chin for all the extra height it gave him, still putting him at Lotor’s shoulder.

Lotor would never, ever, ask Allura or Shiro to do this and Lance wouldn’t either.

“Lotor, look—”

“Emperor,” Lotor cut in. “You will address me as Emperor Lotor here. And as a guest here, in my palace, you will abide by my rules. And I am telling you to remove your armor. Otherwise the door is there and I shall see you and your Lion you escorted out.”

Lance’s pulse pounded in his ears and he felt like swaying, so off kilter from all he had practiced and planned for and why was this happening? Why hadn’t Lotor told him there was a dress code so Lance could have adhered to it?

There was only one reason he wouldn’t have and Lance’s hands trembled at his sides.

Because Lotor had wanted this outcome. He wanted to embarrass Lance, wanted to demean him, and wanted to put himself in the position of power.

And so Lance had two choices.

Take off his armor, stay, refuse to be embarrassed and show Lotor he wasn’t playing his games.

Or leave it on and return to Voltron a complete and utter failure.

There was only one real option.

“All right then, _Emperor_ Lotor,” Lance said, willing his cheeks to return to their normal tan pallor and keep his voice light and easy and the slightest mocking tone to the title and he was rewarded as Lotor’s smirk faded away. Lance wasn’t sure he could count it as a win as he was still technically moving about the castle in his undersuit, but it wasn’t a loss either.

He set about removing each piece, stacking them neatly on the chair next to his travel bag, except for his boots as he was not going to walk around the base in blue and purple polka-dotted socks, trying to ignore Lotor’s gaze trained on him the entire time because this was just another way for Lotor to try to make him feel small and Lance refused.

“Excellent,” Lotor said as Lance set his last armguard on the pile and straightened up. “I shall have someone fetch your armor later. As for you…” his gaze raked up and down Lance, lip curling, and Lance resisted the urge to cross his arms defensively over his chest as an unwelcome shiver went down his spine, “it looks like we will require a stop at your quarters so you may… change.”

Lance’s eyes widened.

Lotor had clothes for him at his room? He was bringing Lance directly to said room?

He could have worn his _armor_ to his room _before_ meeting the generals so he wasn’t walking around the palace in just his undersuit?

Lance had no choice but to bite down on his tongue. As Lotor had said, this was his palace and therefore his rules and showing his discomfort and frustration at the entire clothing situation would only amuse Lotor more and protesting would just make Lotor think him a child throwing a tantrum.

“Then shall we?” Lance raised an eyebrow.

Lotor chuckled. “We shall.”

Lance picked up his duffel bag, slung the strap over his shoulder, and followed as Lotor exited the waiting room and went for the flight of stairs, which led into another metal hallway with purple scone lights with far more offshoots — some central hub — and with that also came people, or, well, Galrans. It was here Lotor paused, allowing Lance to draw even with him, and Lance held back his smile at the action because Lotor wasn’t leading him now, putting himself in front, and the action spoke far more than words.

They were equals.

And Lance was willing to take this proffered olive branch after the whole dress code snafu and literally move forw—

He didn’t quite jump but it was a close thing as Lotor’s hand came to rest on the small of his back, completely unwarranted and most definitely unwanted.

“This way,” Lotor said smoothly giving him a gentle prod in the indicated direction, as though this was something he did for all his guests, but the small, amused smirk pulling up his lips told Lance otherwise.

Forget what he’d just thought, this wasn’t Lotor marking them as equals.

This was Lotor belittling him again and in full view of the other Galrans, making Lance look like some, some _damsel_ in need of help.

He took a large step forward, out of range of Lotor’s hand. “I can—”

Lotor’s reach was longer and his hand clamped down on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing almost painfully. “This way,” he repeated, tone a hair sharper, and it was either stumble or walk and Lance could already feel his cheeks heating and so his feet moved in the indicated direction.

“Good boy,” came Lotor’s murmur and Lance’s cheeks darkened even further.

“Lotor, I can—”

“Emperor,” Lotor punctuated his title with another squeeze and Lance winced as he felt manicured nails digging through his undersuit. “Dear me, your manners leave much to be desired. But do not worry,” Lotor smiled although there was nothing nice about it, “you are here to learn after all.”

Lotor was the one who needed a lesson in manners, but Lance kept the thought locked inside as Lotor continued to steer him through hallways, metal giving way to more decorative scones and a lush underfoot floor runner in a purple and black pattern that no doubt indicated they were reaching the living quarters of the palace. 

Lotor was clearly trying to goad him into a reaction, into Lance making a comment that he would then report back to Shiro and Allura as an indication that Lance wasn’t ready to take on a larger role and that would invalidate his own opinions and strategies and then Lance would be even more on the sidelines than before. 

Well, Lance was not going to rise to the bait. He would show Lotor who the _real_ adult was here and he would prove himself at the council meeting in a few hours. 

Lance’s brow furrowed. Why _was_ he here so early? He definitely didn’t need three hours to settle in and he’d already had a tour the first time. 

Maybe… maybe it was to prepare? That would be almost suspiciously kind of Lotor to allow Lance access to meeting materials, but at the same time a poor performance on Lance’s end would reflect badly on Voltron and therefore Allura and, Lance’s stomach clenched, Lotor certainly wouldn’t want that. 

And speaking of his stomach…

It was nearly lunch hour and Lance could certainly go for a bite. What _did_ Galrans eat for lunch? Coran had walked him through a typical dinner course but lunch had to be more informal and Lance was fine with that. 

“Here we are,” Lotor interrupted Lance’s silent musings as they came to a halt in front of an ornate door at the end of a long, doorless hallway, and he reached forward to wave his hand over a keypad, the door swinging inwards, other hand still on Lance’s shoulder, and steered him inside. 

The room was dim, a single purple scone lit by the door but Lance could see that it was less a room and more of a suite with a couch, table and desk with chair set up in this room and a large, open arched doorway leading into likely the bedroom and bathroom portion. 

But it wasn’t the decor that made Lance draw up short.

It was the three Galrans sitting upon the furniture that rose to their feet with both sharp salutes and sharper grins, clearly expecting them which told Lance they were at the right room.

But they were not dressed in armor to be guards and not even dress clothes like Lotor that likely marked them as council members come to greet him, but...

But what Lance could really only call robes and pajamas.

What…

What was this?

“Lotor, what’s… what’s going on?” his voice came out higher than he wanted, it taking all of his willpower to not step backwards as something told him to leave, to run, that he was in _danger,_ but that was ridiculous as he was in Lotor’s palace as his guest and Lotor was right here and…

And… 

And something was _wrong._

The sick feeling grew as Lotor clamped hands down on both of his shoulders, his bag hitting the floor with a dull _thump,_ and both long hair and hot breath brushed against the back of Lance’s ear. 

“Pay attention, Lance,” Lotor whispered. “Your lesson is about to begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who commented for the kind words and enthusiasm for the fic ♥ I love a good manipulative Lotor too and I'm glad so many of you enjoy my take on him. And to one comment, there's no particular inspiration for him other than that villains are my favorite characters to write and especially ones with hidden motives. They're so deliciously twisted and Lotor is a particular favorite as I adore his speech patterns and how there's so many hidden layers beneath everything he says. 
> 
> If you are enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments (and the small details you note make my day!). Thank you for the support ♥


	3. Three

“Do you remember,” Lotor’s hot breath sent an icy shiver down Lance’s spine, “what I said yesterday?”

Yesterday?

Lotor had said a lot of things yesterday. 

He’d said a lot of things today.

And this...

This was… 

“L-Lotor,” Lance hated how he stuttered, hated how even though every instinct was now _screaming_ at him to run he was standing here, unresisting, because it was Lotor and Lotor was on their side and Lance was supposed to _trust_ him and whatever this was had to be some misunderstanding, some, some _scare_ tactic and _Dios_ it was working, “what is—”

“Goodness,” Lotor cut him off, “you truly do not listen, do you? A poor quality for a Voltron Paladin and,” his hands tightened on Lance’s shoulders, “yet another item we will need to address.”

Lance’s pulse thumped loudly in his ears.

“I said,” Lotor sniffed, “that some issues had been brought to my attention that would require a change in planning. And given your clear lack of intelligence, allow me to make myself indescribably clear.” Lotor paused, and without seeing it Lance could picture the cold smile, the flashing eyes and _Dios,_ what had he gotten himself into?

What had he done _wrong?_

“You, Lance,” Lotor’s nails pierced through his undersuit, “are the issue.”

Lance had sensed that was where this was leading, but…

But what?

Why?

Why was Lotor saying this?

What did he want Lance to say?

“You need to learn your place,” Lotor continued. “Because you, the right hand of Voltron? Do not make me laugh. You are a fill-in, a replacement and a poor one at that.”

Lance’s breath caught.

What?

What was…? How did…?

“Shiro has spoken to me of the real Red Paladin,” Lotor said. “A true _hero._ Someone _worthy_ of such a title. And you? You just happened to be in the right place at the right time, for both of the Lions you think you are entitled to pilot.”

Lance reeled.

Shiro had… had told Lotor about the Lion switch? About how they came to Earth? He knew the two of them talked, but…

But about them?

About _him?_

Did Shiro think that too? 

Did… did Allura? 

“You are not a Paladin, Lance,” Lotor’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “You are not special. You are _nothing._ And you have nothing to offer to this universe except a pretty face and even that isn’t enough to win over the beautiful Princess Allura, is it?”

Lotor’s next words were a cruel hiss against his ear.

“I see the way you look at her. It is quite pathetic, really, and I almost pity you. You hope to impress her, don’t you? You think this meeting is an opportunity? Oh, Lance…” Lotor let out a soft, cruel laugh. “When I am done with you she will _never_ even look at you.”

The shiver returned in full force, accompanied by a rolling of his stomach and a chuckle from one of the other Galrans, and Lance had had enough.

What, whatever this was he was done listening, done trying to avoid confrontation, because that was a _threat_ and Lance wasn’t so stupid to ignore it.

He jerked his shoulders free from Lotor’s grip, went to pivot on his heel to what he wasn’t sure — run away like the child Lotor was alluding he was? — but before he had even made a step Lotor was _slamming_ him up against the wall, pinning him in place and looming down with a sneer.

“I was not finished.”

Lance swallowed, heart racing. 

He needed to get out of here. _Now._ Lotor wanted to compare him to a child? Wanted to make him feel insignificant and worthless and remind him of all of Lance’s own worst fears that he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough and that he should have stepped down from Voltron when it became a numbers issue? Fine. Not really, but fine. 

But this wasn’t a mind game any more, a way for Lotor to flaunt his own power, to rub Lance’s nose in the fact Allura had chosen Lotor and had never even given him a second glance. 

He didn’t know exactly what it was but it made him feel sick and scared and maybe he was just proving Lotor’s point but he wanted — needed — to leave.

Trying to walk away had gone literally nowhere and attacking Lotor would maybe not be suicidal — because Lotor didn’t want him dead… right? — but those three other Galrans not to mention Lotor were all bigger, no doubt stronger, and hand to hand had never been and still wasn’t Lance’s strengths.

All he had left was to talk his way out of whatever this was, even though opening his mouth seemed to have gotten him into this in the first place. 

“L-look,” his voice came out breathless and high and it made Lotor’s lips curl up and Lance’s cheeks heat from the previous pale pallor. “I, I’m sorry. I—”

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” Lotor shook his head. “I am not looking for an apology. I am looking to see you learn your place, to learn that you have no voice on any matter of any importance and learn that at the end of the day… the only thing you are is a body occupying a seat you do not deserve.”

Lance felt sick. 

This, this wasn’t...

“L-Loto—”

“These fine gentleman are here to impart these lessons upon you,” Lotor smoothly cut him off and behind him the Galrans chuckled and Lance’s stomach twisted and he tasted bile on his tongue.

Lotor wasn’t saying…

He couldn’t be saying.

He _wouldn’t._

“Lotor,” Lance pleaded, “you c-can’t.”

“I can’t?” Lotor repeated softly. “Oh, Lance. You foolish, foolish _boy_ . _I_ am the emperor of the Galra Empire, one of the most powerful people in the universe. _I_ can do anything I want. And you... “ he smirked, “can do _nothing._ And now you will learn your lesson for ever thinking you could.”

And Lance literally could do nothing as Lotor pulled him off the wall and in the same movement shoved him stumbling into the arms of one of the other Galrans, who held him against his broad chest while his other hand…

His other hand wrapped around Lance’s bottom and _squeezed._

“Lotor!” it came out a shriek and Lance twisted in the grip, going nowhere, while the Galrans were all crowding around now and more hands were landing in his hair, on his arm, wrapping around his thigh, another climbing higher and Lance’s face went a mixture of flushed and pale. 

_Dios,_ no.

No no no.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

 _Dios,_ please, no.

“Lotor!” Lance jerked his head around, to see Lotor’s back, hand raised in a jaunty wave of farewell as he left Lance to...

To be…

 _Dios,_ this, this had to be a joke.

It had to be over now.

Lotor had made his point and now he was going to stop and laugh and— 

“I shall be back to retrieve you for the council meeting,” Lotor called out before he paused on the threshold, turning so that piercing yellow and purple eyes bored into Lance’s tear-blurred ones as this was happening, this was happening, _this was happening_. 

Lotor’s eyes flashed, not a shred of pity or compassion or kindness in them. “Oh, and Lance?” His smirk widened. “I look forward to seeing what you have learned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've had a couple questions on this, yes, it is Kuron!Shiro. You can always check the top of the first chapter for timeline notes and unless I specifically state otherwise I work with canon's timeline and as such during this period we would have Kuron!Shiro. 
> 
> As anyone who regularly reads my works knows, I have to have a realistic reason for everything that happens because I won't do these characters a disservice for any type of shock value or even in the name of whump and angst. I'm pretty proud of how this story came together, especially as we only have Lance's perspective and he doesn't know Lotor's real canon plans, and as such we can't either but I like to think Lotor's reasoning here makes a lot of sense ;) Next chapter will be one of the rated M--explicit chapters so please keep that in mind. I'd love to hear your thoughts on _this_ chapter though if you have a moment. Hearing from readers means a lot. Thank you and thank you to those who left a comment last chapter. I really appreciate it ♥


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning notes: sexual content ahead**

The door closed behind Lotor with a final sounding _thud_ that Lance could barely hear over the ringing in his ears and his repeated, panicked mantra that this couldn’t be happening this couldn’t be happening this couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

Lotor had brought him here so that these Galrans could…

Could…

Lance let out a scream, tossing his head back, jabbing his elbow and kicking his feet into whatever body parts he could reach in a desperate bid to get free.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t he?” one of the Galrans chuckled, completely unperturbed by Lance’s struggles, by what he was being asked to do.

To…

To...

“I’m going to enjoy it,” said another and something _wet_ and _warm_ — a tongue, Lance faintly identified, the Galran was _licking him_ — went across the back of his neck. “I’ve never tasted human before.”

“That title of loverboy is really coming back to bite,” and Lance let out a gasp as the third Galran nipped at his ear, “huh? I can’t wait to test it out.”

“What do you say, loverboy?” the first one asked, his hand squeezing Lance’s bottom. “Ready for some fun?”

“St-stop,” Lance choked out, still trying to kick, to twist himself free, even as their grips became tighter, their bodies pressing in. “Please, please, I don’t—”

“You don’t want this?” Galran Two interrupted, furred hands worming their way beneath Lance’s shirt from the back, nails scraping against his stomach and Lance let out a low sob, shaking his head.

No.

No, please. 

“That’s too bad,” Galran Three said, hot breath brushing against Lance’s ear. “Because we do.”

“And so does Emperor Lotor,” Galran One said. “And as loyal subjects we live to serve Emperor Lotor. And especially,” his hand squeezed again, drawing a whimper as claws dug into his cheek, “when he asks us to enjoy ourselves so.”

“Please—”

Lance was cut off as a hand twisted in his hair and jerked his head back, summoning more tears to his eyes.

All he caught were a glimpse of yellow eyes before the Galran One’s head was descending and lips were being crushed against his own. 

The Galran was _kissing_ him. 

It…

It was starting.

This, this couldn’t...

Lance’s yelp as a fang pierced his lower lip was swallowed by the _tongue_ being shoved into his mouth, pushing past his own, and angling for the back of his throat. 

“Aw come on,” he heard Galran Two say at his back, voice a whine, as Lance gagged and tried to pull back only to be shoved closer. “I wanted first taste.”

“Well I wanted him to shut up,” said the third. “Screams are fine with me but all this begging is turning me off.”

“You still look pretty turned on to me,” sneered Galran Two and Lance became incredibly aware that what he’d thought was an arm pressed against his thigh was actually…

He tasted bile around the tongue. 

“Come on now,” there was a shove from behind aimed at Galran One and Lance choked out a gasp as the kiss was broken off, sucking in air and trying not to vomit and oh _Dios oh Dios oh Dios_ , “let’s get going to the bed before Varion blows his load.”

“Oh shut up,” came a snarl lacking any heat.

The grips loosened ever so as Galran Two and Galran Three — Varion— stepped backwards.

An opening.

Maybe his only opening.

And Lance _moved._

He slammed his right arm back, catching someone hopefully somewhere painful based on the _oof_ with his elbow — and Pidge had always told him they were pointy — while slamming his left knee up into Galran One’s stomach and whipping his left arm around in a hook. 

A hand closed expertly about his wrist, catching his punch.

And then Lance _screamed_ as he felt bones grind against one another and his legs buckled beneath him as he was shoved downwards, knees hitting carpeted floor. 

“Little bitch,” came Varion’s breathless voice and no doubt the recipient of Lance’s elbow. “Hold him there, Kajik, I’ve got something for him.”

And although Lance’s vision was once more blurred with tears there was no mistaking what Varion’s intention was as he stepped in front of Lance, pulling himself free of his robes and showing Lance what he’d felt pressed up against him was a large as it had felt.

And outside of the fact that it was purple, Galrans apparently had the same genitals as humans. Lance supposed in a sort of detached way that he clung to that that made sense as Keith had to have come from somewhere and that meant Galrans and humans had to be compatible and—

Lance squeezed his eyes shut as much as his mouth as Varion came closer and Kajik’s grip tightened on his wrist and Galran Two grabbed hold of Lance’s hair and commandeered his other arm, twisting it behind his back.

“Now now,” something bumped against Lance’s lips, “open wide, loverboy. I’ve got a little present for you.”

No.

No no no. 

Absolutely no—

A hand dove between Lance’s legs and _squeezed_ and out of both shock, pain and surprise Lance’s eyes and mouth flew open in tandem.

And then he was choking as Varion was pushing himself in.

And in.

And in.

Lance gagged as it struck the back of his throat. 

This wasn’t…

This couldn’t be….

“Oh, yeah,” Varion moaned, sliding in even further. “Look at him go.”

Bite, Lance’s brain filtered to him. Bite down _now._

But his jaw was shoved too wide, his neck aching at the strain, and all he managed was a scratching of teeth that only made Varion moan again as he pulled back and then shoved in again.

And again.

And again. 

“It’s so _hot,”_ his voice was high and tight and Lance moaned too but with pain and shame and he could feel tears trickling down his cheeks.

This wasn’t…

Why was…

_Why?_

And then if he hadn’t already been gagging he was definitely doing it now as hot and thick liquid poured down the back of his throat and as Varion withdrew Lance hunched over as much as he could, coughing and hacking and spitting up milky purple colored juices that as they hit his tongue tasted of metal and too much salt.

It made him cough and cry more as this was only the beginning, this wasn’t even…

They wanted to…

 _Lotor_ wanted them to…

He’d, he’d never and, and now…

Oh _Dios._

This had to be a nightmare. 

This couldn’t be real. 

Please, please _please_ , let him wake up. 

“Oh look at him,” and a tongue licked across his chin. “The loverboy needs cleaned up.”

“Don’t bother,” came Kajik’s amused rumble. “We are just getting started. And on that note... I think it’s time to see what we get to play with. ” 

That was all the warning Lance had as he was hauled to standing by his captured wrist, legs like jelly beneath him, but it didn’t matter as Kajik was lifting him up, slinging him over his shoulder, with one hand coming to caress Lance’s bottom as he carried him towards the bedroom. 

Lance was dropped onto the bed — and it was a _large_ bed, easily big enough for all of them and _Dios, Dios, please_ — and he tried to scramble to his knees, to somehow go somewhere, but a hand latched about his ankle and he was _dragged_ backwards while other hands were descending on his shirt and pants and shoes.

He let out a muffled scream into the mattress, kicking out with his free leg, that was only captured by another hand and his back half was _lifted_ into the air, pushing his face even more into the bed.

“Careful now,” he heard one of them saying, “don’t rip anything. The little Paladin is going to need those for tomorrow.”

Lance could feel his shoes and socks — one of them letting out a snort upon seeing them — being pulled off and hot hands were beneath his shirt, pulling it upwards and then pressing painfully down on his head as they wrenched it over, pulling it down his arms and Lance…

Lance couldn’t stop them.

 _Dios,_ he couldn’t stop them.

“N-no,” he whimpered as his shirt came free and hands moved now to his waistband. “No. Pl-please. _Stop._ Pl—”

A hand landed in his hair, painfully pulling his head up.

And then fangs and lips were crashing back down upon his own, silencing his protests, while the others continued, both too slow and too fast and oh _Dios, por favor,_ stop, stop them, this wasn’t _real,_ to remove his pants and his shorts right along with them. 

Cold air struck bare flesh and despite the temperature Lance felt his face light itself on fire at both the exposure and the Galrans’ chuckles and murmurs only to pale a second later as one of the hands left where the pants were now being tugged past his knees and wrapped itself around him.

“Look at it, he’s so _small,”_ laughed Kajik, squeezing and Lance’s cry was muffled by the foreign tongue still batting around inside his mouth.

“Everyone’s small compared to you,” retorted Varion. 

“True. And it doesn’t really matter, does it?” the hand squeezed again. “So long as we fit elsewhere.” 

Both Galrans laughed then and Lance was being lowered back down to the bed and Galran Two was breaking off the kiss and releasing Lance’s head from the painful angle. He was given no reprieve though as clawed hands were landing on his shoulders and he was being rolled over and pinned down from above while Kajik and Varion loomed in front of him, each pinning one ankle to the mattress and each as naked now as he was.

He was trapped. 

He was trapped and they were going to…

To…

“Well, well,” Kajik traced unrepentant eyes up and down Lance’s bare form, lips curling up. “It is a beautiful body, isn’t it? And we get it all to ourselves.”

“I wonder how many others he’s laid with,” Galran Two rumbled, thumb rubbing against Lance’s collarbone and fur ticklish although Lance’s heart was too far into his throat to laugh. “That loverboy moniker had to come from somewhere.”

None, Lance answered silently with a sob.

None because Mamá didn’t let them date till they were fifteen and the Garrison had even stricter rules and he’d never felt that way about anyone except Allura before and, and it was supposed to be _special_ and not…

Not this.

Never like this. 

“Please,” he choked out, eyes darting between all three yellowed sets. “Please, don’t—”

He cut off with a strangled scream as claws _pierced_ into his thigh, sinking deep into flesh.

“Listen here, loverboy,” Varion snarled, digging in harder and Lance could feel blood bubbling up. “You keep up that pathetic begging and I will really give you something to cry about. Got it?”

Lance shook his head in place of an answer.

Nothing…

Nothing he said mattered. They didn’t _care._ They were going to… to _use_ him and hurt him and violate him and he couldn’t stop them.

And all of this because…

Because he’d disagreed with Lotor? 

Because he’d challenged his plan in front of Allura and Shiro?

Because he too liked Allura (even though it didn’t even matter because she didn’t look at him the same way)?

Wh-why? Why was Lotor so…

So _cruel?_

And…

Lance hiccuped on a sob.

Even, even after…

There was nothing he could do.

Allura and Shiro… they would _never_ believe Lotor would do this. Telling Hunk would scare him and _Dios,_ he could never, ever, tell Pidge. 

These men, they… they were going to hurt him and he could never…

No one could ever…

Tears trickled over.

Why…

Why was he so _weak?_

Why couldn’t he do _anything?_

“Please,” Lance whispered one last time, the plea as broken sounding as his body was about to be. 

The claws dug in deeper and Lance instinctually tried to pull away, to pull back, back arcing off the mattress and hips twisting and the Galrans let out laughs and catcalls and Kajik smirked, “I always did like a show with my meal. Come now, loverboy,” and a hand reached down, pinching at his inner thigh and Lance jolted, “dance for us. And,” his grin widened. “If you get free… maybe we’ll even let you go.”

Lance knew the offer was fake, knew there was no way they would defy Lotor’s orders, knew that based on the evidence all around him that they _wanted_ his body and they would not so easily ignore their own desires.

But desperation won over logic. 

Lance threw his entire body into the endeavor, twisting and writhing and trying to yank limbs free, to kick and scratch and bite and do _anything, everything,_ to get free.

But whether it was ten seconds or ten minutes later he found himself face down on the bed, hands pressing into his shoulders and his hands trapped beneath him and digging into his stomach, knees on top of his legs and clawed hands wrapping around his thighs.

“It was a nice try,” a hand patted his bottom, Varion’s tone condescending, “but as you can see..”

And Lance startled as the hand _smacked_ him, the hit hard and stinging and making sensitive flesh prickle, “not good enough. Just like you.”

“But that’s why we’re here,” Galran Two said. “To show you what you _are_ good for. And so…”

Lance’s gasp was swallowed up by the blankets as he felt his cheeks being pulled apart, as he felt a finger brush where nothing ever had before.

 _Dios,_ this was…

They were about to…

He trembled.

“It’s so small,” Galran Two said, nails digging into Lance’s flesh as tried to pull him wider. “I don’t think _any_ of us are going to fit. At least,” Lance could hear his smirk, “right away. Time to open this loverboy up.”

“Here,” Varion said and a moment later Lance gasped as something _cold_ and _wet_ was touching him there and then that gasp was turning into a short cry as something else — a finger, it had to be a finger, oh _Dios,_ they were — pushed _inside of him._

“Oh, man,” Galran Two moaned, pushing is finger further in, “he is _tight._ ”

“Could it be,” Varion sounded amused, “that this is our little loverboy’s first time? In that case…” hot breath wafted across Lance’s neck and fangs nipped at his ear, “we’ll have to make it extra special.”

The finger — claw — struck something inside and Lance _bucked_ in pain and all of the Galrans laughed and the finger withdrew the barest bit before it did it again. 

It _hurt._

Oh _Dios,_ it _hurt._

“Here, let me in,” Varion sounded and Lance didn’t even have a chance to try to brace himself — brace himself for _what?_ For _this?_ — as he felt Varion plunge a finger in too and now there were _two of them_ inside of him, moving back and forth.

“Think he can fit three?” Kajik asked.

“Well, he’s gonna have to fit your dick so I sure hope so,” Galran Two laughed. “Let’s see.”

Lance did scream then as a third was added and it was too much they didn’t _fit_ and he could feel himself being stretched, could feel hot blood around the coolness of the lubricant.

“Now, now,” Kajik said in front of him. “Let’s not let them have all the fun.” 

One of his hands moved from Lance’s shoulders to his head and Lance’s face was pulled free from where he’d hidden it in the mattress.

Kajik, legs spread wide, loomed in front of him, and if Varion had been large then…

Then…

“Open up, loverboy,” Kajik said, jerking his hips and hitting Lance in the face with it. “Otherwise…”

There was no threat they could make right now that was any more terrifying than what they were already doing and what they were going to do and Lance gave a mute shake of his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

If, if he didn’t see it then…

The Galrans behind him grunted and Lance held in the whimper as they pressed in harder, faster.

And that meant he didn’t see Kajik leaning forward to pinch his nose shut until he had and Lance…

Lance couldn’t _breathe._

He’d rather pass out, _escape,_ from this, but his body, as hard as he tried, had different ideas.

And as he opened his mouth to suck in air he found it full of Kajik instead. 

“Use that tongue, loverboy,” Kajik ordered, twitching his hips and sending himself in more. “Make me cum or you’re not gonna like the consequences.”

Lance sobbed instead.

This was…

This couldn’t be…

And even though Lance wasn’t really doing much as struggling to breathe was about all he was capable of and his tongue fluttered in his mouth against Kajik, it seemed to be enough as Kajik was moaning now and grinding back and forth, down his throat, the rest of him striking Lance in his face with the force of his movements while behind him they continued to force him wider and wider and it _hurt._

And…

And that time Lance tasted it.

Bile.

He choked on it as he felt it rising up his throat and for some sick reason it only seemed to make Kajik more excited and then Lance was suffocating as bile met Kajik’s release and it was all in his throat and Kajik stayed there, both limp and hard all at once, his hands now tangled in Lance’s hair as Lance desperately tried to swallow it all down. 

“This feels… _amazing,”_ Kajik moaned. 

“Make sure he swallows all of it,”Varion said from behind. “I ain’t cleaning up none of that shit. And speaking of…”Lance felt the fingers pull completely free with a wet _pop._ “I think we’re ready here. Ulat, you and your small ass dick are up first.”

“It’s not small,” grumbled Galran Two — Ulat — but without any heat. “Kajik, finish up up there.”

“Done,” Kajik pulled himself out of Lance’s mouth and he didn’t have the strength to close it, heavy, panting sobs and gasps emitting from it as his throat felt rubbed raw and like he’d swallowed fire and crying equally hot tears from squeezed shut eyes. “I want to see loverboy’s first time anyway with no distractions. So just to make sure…”

Kajik’s hand dug beneath Lance’s chest and pulled his hands free, one of his hands fully encircling both of Lance’s wrists, dragging them up and his arms extended painfully and trying to pull them back only made Kajik yank harder and then there was a _clink_ and Lance faintly realized he’d just been cuffed and chained to the bed. 

Not that he’d had any chance before but…

But there was no running now.

No escape.

And they were going to…

He felt what had to be Ulat grabbing hold of his thighs and forcing his legs to spread wide and lifting him slightly up, and then something hard and hot press against him.

“Now,” Ulat’s voice was high and excited. “Let’s see what lessons we can impart on our loverboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A strange afternoon update as given the content this didn't feel quite appropriate to start off the morning ^^; This is definitely the most graphic sexual content I've written in this fandom and it's a bit of a different flavor than others I've done, but I think for the full scope of the trauma Lance is going through and where this story is going it can't be anything else. I hope everyone is doing all right ♥ And if you feel up to it, it would mean a lot to hear from you. You don't have to pull out any specific details here if you don't wish to, but given that this was my first time really writing something quite this graphic (and next chapter is even moreso) it would mean a lot.
> 
> Thank you so much to those who left such sweet comments last chapter; I truly appreciate it ♥ A lot of you noted the emotions and that means a lot, especially for this type of fanfiction where the assault is as physical as it is emotional. Thank you again and I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter ♥
> 
> edit: wow, it was that bad, huh? :(


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning notes: sexual content ahead**

The plea was on Lance’s tongue but he kept his lips pressed closed.

It didn’t matter.

They didn’t care.

And this was…

This was really happening.

He’d… he’d seen a lot up here in space. A lot of terrible, horrible things. And for as horrific as those things were Lance had always tried to look forward, to be positive, that things were getting better, that they were making things better, that things _could be better._ He was far from innocent and far from naive, not after what he’d seen, but…

But he knew there were worse things out there in the universe. 

And now…

Now he was in the middle of it, in a place he thought was safe, a place he thought was going to be an opportunity to prove himself.

All he was proving was that he was the weak link of the team, that he _was_ weak, and that he should never, ever, have been a Paladin. 

But, but even so…

_Why?_

Why was this happening? 

What, what had he ever done to Lotor that he’d ordered for Lance to… to be _raped?_ That he wanted Lance to feel this kind of pain, this kind of shame? 

What had he done to deserve this? 

He felt Ulat pressing in closer, felt him shifting.

His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, and he tried to focus on that pain because if he did then he could ignore what was really happening and—

Lance bit his tongue as Ulat thrust himself inside, far larger and wider than even their combined fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” Ulat pressed up against him, rocking back and forth and Lance dug his nails deeper into his palm, hiding his face in the blankets and wishing that hid all of him. “Oh y-yeah.” 

Ulat’s claws tightened on his legs and he jerked Lance backwards, his bottom crashing into the Galran’s chest and fur rubbing up and down now too on sensitive flesh. 

The rocking increased, Ulat panting and moaning.

And Lance…

Lance was alarmed to feel around the pain as his body was stretched a sort of convulsion, a hot fire building in his stomach, that only grew as more cold lubricant was applied and shoved inwards, as Ulat’s motions became more frantic.

Something was building inside him and it _terrified_ him.

He didn’t want this.

 _Dios,_ he didn’t want this.

And, and yet… 

His body was...

And then he _screamed_ as a different fire exploded as Ulat let loose and it _burned_ inside of him and Lance was almost grateful for the sudden pain as it doused the other fire and Ulaz collapsed atop him, weight heavy and uncomfortable.

“Gaia above,” Ulat moaned. 

“Yeah, yeah, the loverboy makes a good fuck toy,” Varion said. “Can you get your limp dick out now so the rest of us can have a go?”

“Wait your turn,” Ulat snapped, hands digging into Lance’s sides now as he pushed himself up. “I wanna clean him out first.”

There was a strange slithering sensation then as Ulat pulled back and it was followed by a hot, sticky liquid sliding out of Lance.

And then there was a tongue.

Lance jerked forward, but Ulat and his tongue — his tongue was _inside him_ — followed and the hands were back on his hips as Ulat licked and swirled and oh _Dios_ oh _Dios_ the unwelcome heat was building again. 

And it grew as he felt a different hand go beneath him and grab hold and Kajik let out a chuckle, stroking him and Lance bucked, “My, my, what’s this? Is the loverboy enjoying himself too?”

“N-no,” Lance choked out, heat staining tear-stained cheeks. 

He didn’t want this.

They were _hurting him._

“This,” Kajik _squeezed_ and that _hurt_ and he whimpered, _“_ is not okay. You’re supposed to be learning a lesson, loverboy. Not pleasuring yourself.”

Lance shook his head, not even sure what he was protesting. 

“No more lubricant,” Kajik said. “I don’t care if it makes him bleed, we are not here to please him.”

“No lubricant for you then,” Varion said. “ _I_ love that he’s getting off on this. What a sick little whore you are, huh loverboy?” he pinched Lance’s butt cheek. “And I can’t wait to watch you cum and then _taste_ you.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut.

Please.

Please, he didn’t want this.

He _didn’t._

He heard the chain being undone as Ulat sat back and for the barest moment he thought maybe, maybe, he could try to run, but hands were back in his hair and he was being dragged upwards to sitting, his backside and insides aching at the shift. 

And then the hands were moving to his sides and he was being _lifted_ and then lowered and Lance realized within a tick that the bed was no longer beneath him.

That was a furred leg.

He was… in Varion’s lap…

His eyes flew open to find his face inches from a furred chest and Kojak was pulling his legs to wrap around Varion’s hips and something bumped against Lance from between Varion’s legs but there was nowhere to go as hands held him up under his arms and his hands were still cuffed. 

“Now,” Varion’s breath was hot on his face as he looked down, yellow eyes flashing with excitement. “Let’s see how much you like this.”

And with no apparent effort he _lifted_ Lance up and then slowly, slowly lowered him on top of himself.

Lance felt the push, the resistance, and then a second later he was sliding down onto Varion and despite the lubricant still inside him it hurt more than any before and he knew, he knew, that Kajik was bigger still and he didn’t want to use _anything_ and oh _Dios_ he was going to rip him open from the inside and yet he would prefer that to, to _this_ as he felt his own body twitch at the too gentle ministration.

“Oh ho, look at you, loverboy,” Varion murmured. “You little _slut._ Let’s see what else you can do.”

And Varion began to lift Lance up and down, up and down, each thrust driving in deeper and harder and it was hurting more as Varion grew harder and yet…

Yet it felt like it was filling him and the pressure was back and this was _wrong._

Lance could feel himself growing hard, felt every _thwack_ as struck against Varion’s lap, as Varion lifted him. 

It was building.

It hurt.

It felt good.

It _hurt._

“Here, let me help,” and Ulat leaned over, grabbing Lance into his own hand and rubbing and stroking and Lance quivered and was unable to hold back his own moan, head tipping back.

No.

No no no.

He didn’t _want_ this.

“Come on, loverboy,” Varion muttered, slamming him down harder, Ulat’s hand moving faster, nails scraping against beyond sensitive flesh. “Come on.”

And then Lance was letting out a scream as both Varion lost control and…

And so did he.

Tears poured down his cheeks as fluid poured out of him, striking Varion’s chest and Ulat’s hand, and he went limp in the hold, shuddering and shaking and crying.

“What a beautiful whore you are,” Varion murmured, hands squeezing Lance’s side before he let go, Lance still speared upright, and lowered his head to _lick_ at the mess Lance had made. 

Lick _him._

Lance jolted backwards, sliding right off as liquid poured out of him, as Varion’s mouth wrapped around him and fangs bit down gently and it hurt and it didn’t and _Dios_ what was _wrong with him_ and please please _stop._

 _“_ St-stop,” Lance got out, bringing up shaking cuffed hands to push against Varion’s head. “Stop, pl-please.”

“You taste _delicious,"_ Varion looked up at him, licking his lips with a mixture of white and purple smeared over his chin.

Lance shook, the image blurring with more tears.

“Enough,” Kajik said, and hands landed back on Lance’s shoulders. “My turn. And I’m going to _break him.”_

Lance was pulled and thrown down on his stomach with so much force he bounced on the mattress. 

And then Kajik was on top of him, claws stabbing into his hips, lifting him up a few inches, and there was no warning as he _slammed_ himself flush into Lance. 

“You like this?” he asked, thrusting in again, too hard, too fast, too _big._ “You better not, loverboy. This isn’t playtime. This is _punishment.”_

And Lance was sickly grateful for this approach, because at least the only thing he felt was pain.

And not...

Shame was a permanent stain on his cheeks.

“Go ahead,” Kajik snarled, slamming in again and Lance choked on a scream as he felt himself tearing. “Try to stop me. Try to get away. But you know what?” he leaned forward, breath ghosting across Lance’s ear. “You can’t. Because you’re a weak, pathetic, sorry excuse for a Paladin and _you_ are the only one who can’t see it. You think,” he thrust in again, “any other Paladin would allow this? You think they would be in this position? You know that answer.”

And he did.

Lance’s sob was swallowed by the mattress. 

He knew.

He _knew._

And they all knew that this only proved how much. 

He was _weak._

He was _shameful._

And he had been beyond _stupid_ to think he could be anything more. 

And as Kajik slammed into him, as the other Galrans crowded in close, as they laughed and sneered and licked, he could hear Lotor’s words echoing above.

_Foolish boy._

And he really, really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter graphic? Yes. Was it necessary? Yes. Many rape victims do not come forward because of some of the events shown here: that they are told due to the fact their body reacted that they "wanted" it and therefore it isn't rape. Fear is also an arousal method that many rapists can and do use to their advantage. The victims are often shamed and embarrassed by how their bodies reacted and it keeps them silent. I tend to write sexual assault as that; assault (which it is, absolutely, as how Kajik acted) and make it a very violent experience, but for where this story is going there needed to be another component and it's one that I really felt deserved to be addressed in full scope. Rape doesn't have to be violent to be rape. _Any_ type of unwanted sexual contact is rape.
> 
> I know it's a dark chapter and believe me, it was a very, very hard one to write. It would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments if you feel up to it. Thank you ♥ 
> 
> This will be the last update (barring a massive bout of engagement and support in the comments that motivate me to post sooner♥) until next year for this fic. Everyone have a safe and happy holiday and see you in 2021 :)


	6. Six

Lance curled up alone on the bed, trembling and shaking and hands — no longer restrained — pressed to his mouth to hold in the loud sob threatening to break free and terrified that if he made enough noise they would come back.

Every shudder _hurt_ as his ravaged insides quaked and every brush of bedding against raw, sensitive flesh had him gasping and choking on the sob, and he could still feel things leaking out from him and they’d left him in the soiled bedding with only Ulat’s tongue to clean him and Lance felt his cheeks flush anew at the remembered feeling of it lapping at him.

 _Dios,_ they’d…

And he’d…

He curled up tighter, hiding his face against his shoulder, and prayed for the impossible that this had been some nightmare and if he just tried hard enough he’d wake up and be back in his own room aboard the castle and not…

Not _here._

With those Galrans and with Loto— 

“My my my,” and Lance froze mid-shudder as Lotor’s soft, amused voice sounded, accompanied by the sound of quiet, purposeful footsteps growing closer.

Lotor was _here._

Lance didn’t know what to do.

What _could_ he do?

Nothing…

Nothing he said _mattered._

A hand landed on Lance’s raised shoulder and trailed down his arm and Lotor clucked his tongue.

“You are absolutely _filthy.”_

Lance said nothing.

There was nothing to say.

Lotor wasn’t going to… to _apologize._ He wasn’t going to show or feel remorse.

Because Lotor…

Lotor had _wanted this._

“Ignoring me, hm? Not very polite, Lance. Not,” his hand tightened on Lance’s arm, fingers digging bruisingly into his flesh and he bit his lip to contain the whimper, “very polite at all. I do hope your manners improve for the council meeting.”

Lance’s eyes widened, still hidden by his arm.

What?

The, the council meeting?

He was still supposed to go to the council meeting? 

But…

“They are all greatly looking forward to your...insight,” Lotor squeezed his arm again. “Of which I think you may have gained even more since your proposal. Tell me, have you learned anything today?”

Lance said nothing.

“I said,” Lotor’s voice hardened, “have you learned anything today? Because I can certainly arrange for you to take the lesson aga—”

“I,” Lance cut him off, voice a rasp and clogged with tears and _Dios_ no, please not again. He couldn’t do that again. “I learned s-something.”

“Oh?” Lotor ran his hand gently now down Lance’s arm, moving up to his shoulder and stroking gently. “And what did you learn?”

Lance swallowed.

Tears he somehow still had left to shed stung his eyes.

He knew what Lotor wanted to hear.

He was scared at how… how _true_ it felt.

All of this was wrong and yet...

“Th-that… that I’m w-weak,” Lance whispered. “And, and not good enough to be a P-Paladin.”

“Excellent,” Lotor purred. “And what _are_ you good for?”

“My body,” it came out barely a whisper.

“Oh, Lance,” Lotor’s hand trailed hot fire down his back to caress his hip. “I am so delighted to hear this. And I hear,” Lance could feel the smirk, “that you may have mixed a little pleasure in with your punishment, hm?”

Lance trembled.

“There is no need to be afraid,” Lotor said, thumb tracing a circle. “It pleases me to hear this. Because it confirms what we’ve both known all along.” 

Lotor’s hair tickled Lance’s back and neck as Lotor leaned over him. “That you are a pathetic, weak, _wanton_ little whore who will _never_ be anything more than a body designed to please others.”

And Lance knew he shouldn’t.

He knew it.

But he gave the smallest, tiniest shake of his head.

That wasn’t what had happened. He _hadn’t_ wanted that. He hadn’t enjoyed it. Maybe, maybe his body had reacted, but…

But even if he was weak and stupid he wasn’t _just_ a body. 

“No?” Lotor’s voice became more dangerous. “You disagree? Oh, Lance… you truly are a foolish boy. But,” he let out a sigh, “there is only so much I can hope for your tiny brain to absorb. And as such I’ll give you a chance to prove that you’ve learned your lesson at the council meeting. I trust you’ll know what to say _this_ time when the Vlioan outpost mission arises.”

Lance gave a small nod.

Yes.

He knew.

He knew and he hated himself for it, but…

But he couldn’t…

Not again.

“Excellent,” Lotor said again. “Then it is time for us to get you cleaned up and make that pretty face presentable.”

And Lance had no warning as Lotor’s hand moved to wrap around his back and his other dug into the crease of Lance’s knees and he was _lifted_ into Lotor’s arms and cradled naked to his chest. 

Like a _child._

Who Lotor had just ordered _raped._

It was all one sick, dizzying circle as to what and how exactly Lotor viewed him; old enough to have sexually assaulted without batting an eye, young enough to speak condescendingly to and think he was worth nothing.

Lance knew better than to fight back at this point and only squeezed his eyes tighter shut and tried to both hide his face against Lotor and not actually touch him.

“You’re being so shy,” Lotor said conversationally. “And here I thought you _loved_ to be the center of attention. Is being Loverboy Lance not all you imagined it to be?”

They left the carpeting, Lotor’s footfalls louder on a harder surface and echoing faintly around them, and then Lance could feel Lotor crouching down and he was lowered.

Lance bit his lip to hold in the whimper as his bottom touched down on something _hard_ and _cold_ that did nothing to soothe the raw, fiery ache, but more than that Lotor’s hands were leaving and there were no repercussions as Lance slowly, slowly drew his legs up to his chest to hide himself. 

A moment later there was a _whooshing_ sound of water.

Lance cracked open his eyes, peeking through raised knees.

He was in a bathtub.

Lotor somehow managed to catch his eyes in that brief second and as Lance had feared there was nothing but amusement in that primal purple and yellow gaze.

And it was clear then to Lance that Lotor was beyond well aware of what had just happened, what he’d just had done, and… and he was not afraid of consequences whatsoever.

Because they both knew that Lance would never say anything. 

Shame and fear would keep him quiet and it would keep Lotor safe.

It was all wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Everything was supposed to have been going _right._

The water was beginning to fill, comfortably hot, but it made Lance shiver at the cool air of the bathroom on the rest of him and it _stung_ as it hit open cuts and scratches from nails and claws and lapped at his bottom. 

Lotor picked up a washcloth sitting in a folded pile next to a towel and ran it beneath the tap and selected a soap cube, squeezing it out and a light citrus and sandalwood scent permeated the room. 

“Allow me,” Lotor smiled at him, raising the cloth and making it clear it was not a request.

Lance bit his lip as Lotor moved behind him and ran it over the back of his neck where fangs had nipped more than once, before moving slowly and languidly down Lance’s back. 

“Why?”

Lance barely breathed the word out, it nearly lost behind the water faucet, and yet he knew Lotor heard as he paused for a moment before resuming.

“Why this punishment?” Lotor asked, and for once the question didn’t sound condescending.

Merely thoughtful. 

Lance gave the barest inclination of his head even though it was so much more than that.

“I have found, in my many years, that fear is the best motivator to accomplish a goal,” Lotor said, surprisingly honest. “Fear of failure. Fear of pain,” the washcloth touched upon one of the deeper claw marks gouged into Lance’s side and he shuddered. “Fear of shame.” The washcloth moved even lower and Lance jerked forward as Lotor brushed against the very top of his crevice and Lotor let out a soft laugh.

“I have no interest in you, Lance,” he said, as though that was comforting, “although I do admit your body is pleasing to the eye.”

He chuckled again, bringing the washcloth back up to rub at Lance’s arms. “And you, Lance… I see how scared you are. How much you fear losing what little purpose and power you’ve obtained as a Paladin. You will do _anything_ to keep it, to remain on such a team even if you are only masquerading as a real player. And that makes you a liability. It makes your foolish ideas liabilities because those other young humans will follow you and you will get them _killed_. Merely telling you this would mean nothing, you would only disagree with me, seek to prove me wrong, and endanger the rest of Voltron. So I had to _show_ you how weak you truly are, how weak your voice actually is. I had considered other options, but pain is fleeting. It is but a moment. But what you have allowed to happen to you… oh, Lance, you will never, ever, forget that fear and shame. And after all has been said and done, you could say I have done you a favor.”

A…

Favor?

Lotor thought this was…

That, that... 

Lance ducked his head further against his knees as though that could hide the shame permanently painted on his cheeks and hold in his sob at how, how _trapped_ he was. 

“Going forward,” Lotor continued, “you will only use your voice to support my plans or there will be consequences in thinking that someone as weak and pathetic as you can rise above your station. And I trust you know of what I speak. Because I have power, Lance. And you, foolish boy… you have _none.”_

Lotor straightened up then, dropping the washcloth with a _plop_ into the water next to Lance and he hated how he flinched as the water struck him and hated more how Lotor let out a huff of laughter at the action.

“Finish cleaning yourself,” he ordered. “Your clothes for the meeting are atop your dresser and I will see your bed freshly sheeted later. One of my attendants will be by in thirty dobashes to escort you to the council chambers, of which following will be dinner that you are expected to attend. And I know I do not have to say it, but…” Lotor’s hair brushed against Lance’s bare shoulders. “Do not disappoint me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter was a little easier to read for everyone; I think the last one scared most of y'all away >>; (For reference, while there are still some dark chapters upcoming none will be as graphic as the last two were). Thank you to those who did pop in; I really appreciated it. As I said in the notes, that was a hard chapter to write and thus a very emotionally draining one for me and your comments and encouragement really do help ♥
> 
> I was very proud of this chapter as I worked hard to get the commission request to fit realistically within canon and we've got a lot of loose ends here that Lotor has tied up for us, even if we all know he's got much, much bigger plans in mind and why it might be a good idea to break apart Voltron ;) If you have a moment it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments. Thank you :)


	7. Seven

Lance silently followed the attendant Lotor had sent through the halls, eyes lowered and he hoped anyone passing by merely thought it was out of respect rather than the fear and shame curdling his stomach as he felt like  _ everyone  _ was looking at him and they  _ knew  _ what had just happened.

He tried to keep his steps as light and natural as possible even though every football sent an ache through him that even the numbing cream — and he flushed thinking about it — Lotor had left behind that he’d dabbed on both his cuts and, and down there as best he could with his own touch making him flinch and shake and he’d dropped the tube twice — couldn’t fully make go away. 

He’d scrubbed himself near raw after Lotor had left, as though removing skin could remove the sensation of their hands and bodies and the memories they had seared into him.

It hadn’t worked.

It had only made him hurt more.

He’d washed his hair — the same scent as the soap — and then had slowly and achingly pulled himself out of the ornate tub and wrapped himself in the towel.

He’d peeked out into the bedroom, half-expecting there to be someone waiting, but the bedroom was empty and a quick glance into the front room had revealed the same.

He’d also discovered, as he’d bent down to pick up his duffel bag that seemed from a different lifetime, that the door was locked from the outside.

He could never have left even had he managed to break free.

And anyone (Galran) could come in. 

That had driven him to childishly pull the couch over to block the door that while it wouldn’t do anything really it would at least alert him someone was coming in. He’d pulled out fresh boxer shorts, hardly able to look at himself to pull them on with shaking hands, and then to the clothes Lotor had left for him. They were nearly all black with pants that flared some before banding at the ankle and a belted tunic that had small sections of red and purple with a high neckline, which, Lance had flushed, hid the bite marks on the back of his neck. There was a skin-tight red undershirt that went beneath it and matching shoes that were flat and had barely any support.

Not like his armored boots had done anything either.

It had taken far too long to get dressed, Lance having to coach himself to put on every piece, as he flinched at every brush against his skin and constantly, constantly looked towards the front room and just waited for someone to force open the door.

No one did.

It didn’t make him feel any safer.

After dressing he’d gone to the bathroom to brush his teeth, entire duffle in his arms and he was clinging to it as though it and clothes could protect him, where he’d gotten his first look in a mirror since that morning.

He didn’t recognize the person staring back.

He...

He looked  _ dead.  _

It was his eyes, mostly, a dullness to them that scared him, that he didn’t know how to fix. 

He didn’t know if he could.

What Lotor had done…

_ “A favor,”  _ echoed in his mind. 

He pressed a hand over his mouth to hold in the sob, other arm wrapping around his waist in a pathetic hug as his knees hit the cold bathroom floor and his entire body shook.

A  _ favor.  _

He, he was supposed to somehow be grateful that, that he had been…

Been  _ raped.  _

And, and now he had to go out there, put on a smile and pretend that nothing had happened, that he was fine, and somehow balance between being a Paladin and being what Lotor wanted him to be and if he didn’t then…

Then…

He choked on another sob. 

He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t. He’d never felt so, so  _ scared  _ and helpless and  _ ashamed  _ and there was nothing he could do to make it better. 

Because Lotor…

He had been  _ right.  _ Lance knew he wasn’t the best Paladin, knew he should have stepped aside so Keith could take back the Red Lion, but being a Paladin… for the first time in his life he’d been chosen to  _ be  _ something, to be a part of something great that helped so many people. And, and to lose that now…

It made him feel sick.

And if he somehow found the strength to tell Shiro what Lotor had done to him… he didn’t even think Shiro would believe him. Who would? It was so farfetched, Lotor was their ally, he would never order an assault like that.

A  _ favor.  _

They’d think he was making it up, he’d never liked or trusted Lotor and he knew Lotor could and would spin it to his own benefit, make it some delusion of a jealous, pining  _ boy  _ who wanted to discredit him and split the alliance apart for his own selfish wishes. And even if Hunk and Pidge believed him (and they  _ would,  _ he knew they would, even if he was too ashamed to ever tell them _ )  _ he would fracture Voltron apart and the universe would suffer and that was the last thing he wanted. He couldn’t be the reason so many got hurt.

So…

So that meant…

And now, here he was, on his way to the council meeting where he had to support Lotor, support Lotor’s plan, and somehow convince himself that he was perfectly okay.

He wasn’t okay.

Not at all.

And every footfall, every too sharp yellow gaze, reminded him why he wasn’t.

“Paladin Lance,” the attendant said, voice soft and deferring and did she know what had happened? had him looking up to see them standing outside an ornate set of double doors. “We are here.”

Lance tried to summon up a smile and he could practically feel his face crack at the effort and how  _ fake  _ it had to look, but that’s what Lotor was expecting of him and if he didn’t perform then…

Then…

“Thank you,” he said, his voice coming out more even than he’d expected. 

It gave him a small boost of confidence. 

He just… just had to view this as acting. As an episode of the Voltron Show. Smile, wave, and, when the time came… agree with whatever Lotor said.

It made his stomach curl.

But, but just for now. When he was back at the castle,  _ safe,  _ if Lotor said something that endangered his friends… he would say something. And, and he knew better now and he would never, ever, allow himself to be alone with Lotor ever again.

The attendant inclined her head and Lance took that as his cue to open the door — with actual handles rather than a keypad — and taking a small breath he pushed both doors wide open, striding in and step purposeful.

A step that came to a stumbling halt as he caught sight of not Lotor — he’d been expecting Lotor, sitting in the center spot of the curving table — but…

But two chairs down from Lotor was Ulat.

Lance’s face went a mixture of pale and red as Ulat smirked at him, tongue flicking out and Lance knew where that tongue had been and oh  _ Dios,  _ this was—

“Paladin Lance,” Lotor smiled at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Welcome to the Galran High Council. Please,” he gestured to the empty chair between himself and Ulat, “would you like to join us?”

Lance didn’t feel capable of speech, managing a mute nod.

And as he walked further into the room he was glad he’d kept his mouth closed.

Because further to the left was Kajik and across the other side of the curved table was Varion.

They were all here.

Other Galrans were dotted in between them, a couple Lance recognized from Coalition briefings although right now he was completely blanking on their names, and he could feel their eyes upon him and they did not vanish even as he tentatively took a seat, trying to hide the wince as his backside protested the pressure in the hard chair.

“Excellent,” Lotor said and Lance let out a half-breath as most eyes turned back to Lotor. “We are all gathered. As I announced yesterday, Paladin Lance will be joining us today to provide us his… insight,” Lotor’s lips quirked up, “into some Voltron related items, and depending on how things go, perhaps we shall see him again.”

Lance gave a minute start.

What?

No.

No no no no no.

He was never, ever, coming back here. 

He couldn’t.

But Lance merely smiled and dipped his head and a voice that sounded like his but wasn’t said, “Thank you, Emperor Lotor, for the invitation, and the opportunity to speak. I look forward to working with and learning from yourself and the Galran High Council.”

He cast his gaze about the table — able to see everyone save the woman sitting on Lotor’s immediate left — and felt himself relax a fraction as while the expressions looking back at him were mostly impassive there were no hidden smirks or outward dislike from the other members, and next to him he heard Lotor give the barest hum of approval.

“Commander Varion,” Lotor began with, “could you please provide the Council an update on the fifth quadrant defenses?”

What followed then was hours of white noise as Galran after Galran spoke and Lance tried to follow the conversation — he  _ needed  _ to follow it — and under any other circumstance he probably would have been both a mixture of bored (meetings were meetings after all) and interested because he was learning a lot about the Empire, but all he could feel were constant eyes upon him and Ulaz kept flicking his tongue out and Kajik kept smirking and Varion was smiling at him like he knew a dirty secret (and he  _ did)  _ and every time they spoke Lance could hear their voices from before; moans and yells and hands touching and lips and—

“Paladin Lance,” Lotor’s voice cut like a knife into the static and Lance hoped his expression wasn’t one of surprise at the address, “what do you think of Councilman Ulat’s suggestion?”

Lance frantically tried to recall what they had been talking about before he’d gotten lost in thought again.

Something about a trade with Plunarim and their rare ore and Ulat had been in favor but Councilman Oroith had been against it and, and…

“I,” Lance swallowed, hoping, praying, he didn’t mess this up, “I agree with Councilman Ulat that the ore is valuable to the Empire, but I also agree with Councilman Oroith that the cost Plunarim is suggesting is unfair.”

“So you have no opinion,” sniffed the councilwoman on Lotor’s side, of whom Lance still hadn’t gotten her name and he couldn’t see her placard and despite that comment Lance was relieved as he hadn’t been off topic. “Typical—”

“I wasn’t done,” Lance interrupted and then immediately paled, eyes flickering to Lotor because while the Galrans had interrupted each other freely he wasn’t sure if, as the guest, he was supposed to and if Lotor would see that as needing for him to learn a lesson.

He was to have a voice and yet none at all and Lance didn’t know what he could and could not say.

But Lotor merely smiled at him, a touch patronizing but nothing underlying it, Lance didn't think. “Please continue, Paladin Lance. I very much value what you have to say.”

But he didn’t.

Lance knew that one rule for sure in this game.

Lotor didn’t want Lance’s opinion, merely wanted to put him on the spot and anything Lance said would be the wrong thing. The best thing was to agree solely with Ulat as he clearly had Lotor’s favor (and  _ Dios,  _ he’d always hated politics but this was a thousand times worse), but…

But Lance did have an idea and saying nothing or merely agreeing would make him look stupid to the other Galrans, and while maybe that was what Lotor wanted too…

Lance wasn’t stupid.

He  _ wasn’t.  _

_ “Foolish boy.” _

Lance swallowed, prayed he wasn’t about to make things worse — bcause looking  _ too  _ stupid would reflect badly on Voltron and Allura, right? And Lotor wouldn’t want that either — and spoke.

“Plunarim is price gouging the Empire,” Lance continued, “because they’re insistent on remaining neutral on any front and the Empire is not a neutral party. Send in someone else, maybe work with the Rebel Alliance, or an individual contractor to negotiate instead. The worst they’ll say is no to that and at best you’ll get the ore for a lot less.”

“I like it,” rumbled a large, older Galran, General Throk, who had clear power and influence in the Council and Lance resisted the urge to slump in his chair because if Throk liked the plan then Lotor wouldn’t likely argue it and there shouldn’t be any “lessons” for him because he hadn’t made Ulat look bad  _ or  _ Orioith and that was what mattered, right? 

And…

And he’d done  _ well.  _ This, this was what he’d wanted when he came here. What he thought he could offer. And it made him hold his head just a little higher because for as much as Lotor told him his words meant nothing…

For this moment they had. 

“I do as well,” Lotor smiled and Lance did give a start as Lotor’s hand landed on his wrist, giving it a sharp squeeze and he wasn’t sure if it was a reprimand or of approval and his stomach lurched at the unknown. “Thank you for your insight, Paladin Lance. And speaking of, let us move to the topic of the Vlioan outpost. Paladin Lance, did you have something you wished to address of the plan?”

And  _ this  _ was it.

Lotor’s hand tightened ever so, manicured nails digging in.

A reminder.

And if Lance didn’t listen…

His eyes darted up and Ulat caught his gaze and very, very slowly licked his lips.

And just like that Lance felt any earlier confidence from the Plunarim discussion fade out.

There was no being brave here.

There was no protecting his team, not if he wanted to protect himself.

Even if he hadn’t earlier, not at all.

“I, um,” he swallowed. “Em-Emperor Lotor briefed Voltron yesterday. And while I had some concerns about Voltron’s role, I, um…”

Lotor’s thumb made a sensual circle on his wrist.

The other reminder.

“After review,” Lance’s voice sounded high and he swallowed again, trying to present some measure of control, “I think the plan is sound. Voltron is, is satisfied with the plan as presented.”

“I am pleased to hear this,” Lotor smiled. “Thank you, Paladin Lance, for your  _ thorough  _ review of the material. There is much to be learned when we share our resources, hm?”

Lotor at least didn’t seem to be looking for an answer as he turned his head in the direction of one of the other commanders and asked a question regarding the transport ships and their pilots.

And that was it.

Just like that.

Lotor had had him raped just for Lance to say a single line.

He blinked quickly at the sudden stinging of his eyes. 

But, but it was almost over. He just had to get through the meeting, get through dinner, and then barricade himself in his room all night. Then the mission tomorrow and after that he’d be back at the castle where it was safe, where Lotor couldn’t touch him, and where…

Where Lance would never oppose any plan Lotor was involved with ever again, even if it put him and his friends in danger.

Just what Lotor wanted.

And it led back to what exactly Lotor did want to happen, what his end game was, but questioning that now…

Lance swallowed.

He couldn’t.

It was pathetic and sad, just like him, but Lance was too scared to speak against Lotor because he hadn’t been lying when he said he had power and while Lance didn’t know what Lotor could do to him at the castle…

He could probably find some way to do something.

He tuned back into the meeting as he heard the word “Voltron” but there was no attention on him, just a commander explaining the mission tomorrow in more detail. 

And yet even though no one was looking at him and Lance knew he wasn’t going to be expected to speak again…

Lotor’s hand remained wrapped about his wrist like a shackle, a constant reminder of what was expected.

And…

And for the entire rest of the meeting…

He didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was originally writing this I didn't have large-scale plans for Lance's assaulters and thought to keep them sort of faceless/nameless. But even as I was writing them in their debut chapters I realized that wouldn't work as they couldn't just be some lowlife grunt. So then this happened and I'm just further traumatizing this poor boy. I'm so sorry, Lance.
> 
> I'm so thankful though to those of you who popped into the comments last chapter. Thank you ♥ And everyone lurking, say thank you to them too as their engagement prompted me to post this chapter in just a week :) I'm so glad so many of you enjoyed Lotor's little speech there and how badly he's twisting little kernels of truth into this sick plot to keep Lance quiet. Since I saw a couple comments on this, I'll say that this does align with canon in the sense that Lotor needs loyal subjects in Voltron (i.e. Shiro and Allura) to push his own agenda. Lance became a threat to him when he spoke out against Lotor's plans and go re-read his comments in the first chapter there ;) He realized he had a problem and he's doing what he can to correct it. Threatening Lance won't work, violence on its own won't work, so he takes more underhanded methods that will make Lance not want to both not report him to the others because of embarassment and shame AND gains him another pawn so to speak on Voltron AND eliminates the threat Lance poses in upheaving the control he already has. He's pretty proud of himself ;) 
> 
> If you're reading the fic it would mean a lot from here you down in the comments (and the small details (i.e. I still love the imagery of Lotor's hand being a shackle on Lance's wrist :D) make my day!). Thank you ♥


	8. Eight

“What do you think, Lance?” Lotor asked him, voice quiet and pleasant, but Lance still heard it loud and clear over the sounds of dinner. “Is the meal to your liking?”

Lotor had of course seated Lance next to himself at the table, theirs on a raised dais above the other long communal table made up of higher ranking Galrans and council members, with just the two of them as Lance was the emperor’s “esteemed guest.”

He supposed it could have been worse as while Lotor had ordered _that_ he hadn’t actually expressed interest in doing anything to him and…

Lance’s stomach clenched and despite being hungry for lunch earlier he was afraid if he ate now he’d just puke.

But even so, being on the dais, meant that _everyone_ was looking at them, they were the center of attention and Lance _hated_ it.

And Lotor, his hand resting on Lance’s thigh under the table, was not helping matters.

He knew Lotor had said he wasn’t interested in him, he wouldn’t actually _do_ anything to him, but…

But it made him pale and flush and his body felt like a bundle of nerves and all he wanted to do was escape Lotor’s touch, escape the hundreds of yellow eyes, crawl into bed and somehow convince himself all of this was one giant nightmare.

The constant ache inside him and the small scratches and bite marks that still hurt told him that would never happen.

“Um,” Lance swallowed, looking down at his still full plate that the servants had brought out. “I—”

Lotor’s nails dug into his thigh. 

“You do not need to speak to answer,” Lotor said, voice still pleasant and light despite the words he was saying. 

Lance bit his tongue.

“Besides,” and Lotor’s nails dug deeper, “I can see the answer for myself. How terribly rude, Lance. My cooks worked incredibly hard on this meal and your lack of appetite speaks volumes. Perhaps it is a different appetite though that requires sating?”

Lance flushed and gave the barest shake of his head.

No.

Never again.

He, he never wanted to be touched like that again.

“Then I would encourage you to eat,” Lotor said. “Otherwise…”

Lance shakily picked up his fork.

“Smile pretty now,” Lotor murmured. “Everyone is watching.”

Lance’s lips twitched up as he speared what looked like a green bean on the fork and raised it to his mouth.

It didn’t taste bad, buttery and hot with a fresh tang of greens, but…

Lance’s stomach rolled as soon as he’d swallowed.

“Good boy,” Lotor smiled, his nails releasing their grip and now gently stroking Lance’s leg. 

He shuddered. 

He shuddered more as Lotor’s hand went higher and it was taking all he had not to bolt out of the chair, his own image be damned, as fear of something worse kept him rooted.

But…

But maybe…

It, it couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?

It probably could.

But…

He felt his cheeks heating as Lotor’s hand traveled more, stroking now against his inner thigh.

“Lo—” he cut himself off, hating himself for it, but… but maybe this way Lotor wouldn’t take such offense? “Emperor Lotor?”

“I do so like it when you say my name properly,” Lotor’s smile was sharp and his hand paused. “What is it?”

Lance swallowed and ever so subtly gave a tiny shake of his leg to try to dislodge Lotor’s hand. “Can… can you…?”

“Are you presuming to tell me what to do again?” Lotor said, eyes widening in what could only be mock horror. “Why, Lance. I thought we had discussed this.”

“N-no,” Lance stuttered. “Just…”

He’d just thought that maybe, if he’d asked properly that…

He should have known better.

_“Foolish boy.”_

“Do you require a reminder of what I think of you and your opinions?” Lotor asked.

Lance gave a mute shake of his head.

“Then do not attempt to speak again,” Lotor said. “And eat your dinner.”

Lance took another bite.

It tasted like vomit.

He forced himself to swallow it down and eat another. 

After the vegetable he tackled the meat.

On his third bite Lotor’s hand, which had been resting on his thigh and rubbing circles again, removed itself as Lotor picked up his own knife to cut his food.

Lance tried not to hold his breath that maybe…

Maybe it was over.

He kept his head down, didn’t eat too slow but didn’t eat too fast, forced his lips to curve as though he was enjoying his meal, and prayed that Lotor kept his hands to himself.

It seemed to be working as dinner turned to dessert and Lotor made no motion towards Lance until he was setting his napkin atop his plate and his hand landed on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed. “Come,” he said. “We still have business to attend to.”

Lance didn’t dare ask what.

He put his own napkin down atop his plate. Before he could stand though Lotor had already done so and the dining hall fell silent, all eyes turning back towards them. Lance froze where he was still seated, not sure if he should get up or not, as chairs began to scrape at the main table.

Lotor raised a hand and waved it down, indicating for everyone to remain seated. “Please, enjoy the rest of the meal,” he smiled. “Paladin Lance and I,” and now Lance realized maybe he should have stood and he abruptly did so, foot catching clumsily in the chair leg and he flushed as it rocked backwards but fortunately didn’t fall although the snickers in the audience at the near miss had him flushing even harder and ducking his head. He wished he could laugh it off, make some joke, but not only would Lotor probably perceive it as insubordination he didn’t even know what to say.

He just wanted — needed — this day to be over.

“Have business to attend to,” Lotor continued as though nothing had happened. “Good night and,” his hand rose to cross his chest, “vrepit sa.”

“Vrepit sa,” echoed back at them along with a _clunk_ of hands striking chests. 

Lotor placed his hand on the small of Lance’s back to guide him from the table and Lance didn’t offer a word of protest this time, not even when they left the dining hall and entered an empty hallway.

He said nothing at all as Lotor directed them to a smaller conference room — more like an office, actually — than the High Council one and Lance’s eyes widened as he realized he recognized this room. 

It was the one Lotor made his transmission calls to the castle.

“Sit,” Lotor pushed Lance towards the single chair at the desk and Lance gingerly did so. “Now smile, Lance. The princess is going to want to hear a good report.”

And Lotor didn’t even give him a chance to collect himself before he was leaning over Lance and clicking on the transmission screen and a second later it was filling with a live feed of Shiro and Allura, who had clearly been expecting the call.

Lance was once more the only one who knew nothing.

Just like a child trying to join the grown ups’ conversation.

“ _Lance,”_ Allura beamed at him. “ _Lotor,”_ she greeted, expression growing softer. 

Lance’s stomach clenched painfully.

Would, would she still look at Lotor like that if she knew what he’d done?

Would she still look the same at Lance if she knew what he allowed?

“Good evening, Allura, Shiro” Lotor greeted and Lance started as hands landed atop his shoulders.

_— clawed hands on his shoulders, pushing down, pulling him closer as they forced him to wrap his mouth around—_

Lance came back to the scene with a start at the sound of his name, Allura peering at him with unmasked concern. _“Lance? Are you all right?”_

Lotor’s hands tightened in warning.

Lance mustered up a fake smile. “Yeah. Um, it’s, it’s been a long day.”

Allura nodded understandably. _“I shall not keep you long. But may I ask how it went?”_

There were so many ways to answer that.

There was only one acceptable one right now.

“Different than expected,” Lance said, and oh what an understatement that was, “but, but the Council meeting went really well.”

Sort of.

Better than anything else had.

“ _I am so glad to hear that,”_ Allura smiled and she looked so _happy_ at the news, at the collaboration. _“I had no doubts. I am so very proud of you, Lance.”_

Lance could only offer a shaky smile at that.

If she only knew.

And she never could. 

_“And what of the mission tomorrow?”_ Shiro asked, looking between Lance and Lotor as though…

As though their words held equal weight.

If only.

“We shall be proceeding as I had outlined,” Lotor said smoothly. “Lance agreed that was the best course of action after he’d had some firsthand discussions,” and without looking up Lance could clearly picture Lotor’s smirk and he tried not to shudder, “with several members of my Council. It was a very enlightening experience for all.”

 _“Then we’ll see you tomorrow at eight hundred,”_ Shiro said. “ _And Lance?”_ he smiled at him. _“Nice job.”_

Praise from Allura.

Praise from Shiro.

All Lance had ever wanted and yet…

Yet it meant nothing. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it. 

And if they knew… 

The transmission screen went dark on Voltron’s end and Lance remained sitting in the chair, Lotor’s hands still on his shoulders.

And he couldn’t stop the shudder as Lotor leaned down, lips brushing against Lance’s ear. “An excellent job indeed. And, I think, you deserve a reward after all that hard work.”

Lance didn’t want _anything_ from Lotor. 

He was terrified of what a reward would entail.

_“A favor.”_

He didn’t have a choice.

“Come,” Lotor released him and beckoned for Lance to stand. “I shall return you to your quarters.” 

Lotor guided him, hand once again on Lance’s lower back, through the corridors until they reached his room — a gilded cage as Lance did not have the key and he could not leave — and escorted him inside, past the sitting area and into the bedroom.

The bed had been made in Lance’s absence, sheets and blankets fresh and his discarded underarmor neatly folded atop the dresser.

And his armor.

It had been brought here after all that. 

“Strip.”

The command filtered in one ear and out the other and Lance jerked forward a step, whirling on his feet to face Lotor.

What?

No.

Lotor had said, he’d, he’d told Lance that he didn’t…

“L-Lo—”

“Strip,” Lotor repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Or I shall invite others to do it for you.”

Lance swallowed, shaking hands going to the hem of his tunic. 

_Dios,_ what was he…

What did Lotor _want?_

He, he wasn’t going to…

Was he?

His vision blurred with both tears and the shirt as he pulled it off over his head, holding it tight in his hands and against his chest as he glanced at Lotor, casually lounging against the dresser.

“Tick tick, Lance,” he grinned sharply. “Hurry along now.”

Lance made himself let go of the shirt, feeling his cheeks heat at the exposure that prior to today hadn’t even phased him, and toed off his shoes before his hands went to the waistband of his pants.

He felt the tears slide down his cheeks as he pulled them down.

“Oh dear,” and he nearly tripped backwards, ankles still caught in his pants, as Lotor was _there,_ one of his hands brushing Lance’s cheek and the tears. “Crying? It is not a good look for you, Lance. But don’t worry,” Lotor’s tongue flicked out, lapping up the tears and Lance flinched, swallowing back the sob, “I shall make it better. Now,” he stepped back. “Onto the bed.”

The bed that still had manacles and restraints attached to the headboard.

“Lotor,” Lance whispered, “pl-please—”

“Bed,” Lotor pointed at it. 

Lance went.

He couldn’t stop shaking as he pulled himself up, the fact he was still wearing his shorts barely a comfort because he knew they couldn’t protect him if Lotor…

“Lie down on your stomach now, hands beneath your head,” Lotor instructed and Lance did so, bunching the blankets against his cheek and pressing his face into them. “There’s a good boy,” Lotor murmured and a hand trailed down Lance’s bare back. “Now…”

The bed shifted as Lotor climbed atop it and Lance squeezed the blankets harder as Lotor straddled him and rested his weight on the backs of Lance’s thighs. 

This wasn’t…

He’d just…

Lotor had said…

He’d said…

And, and Lance was going to _let him._

The blankets couldn’t fully muffle the sob.

But Lotor’s hands didn’t go to his shorts, didn’t even go down there.

They landed on his shoulders.

And they _pushed,_ fingers giving way to the heel of the hand.

Lotor did it again.

And Lance realized Lotor was…

Was giving him a _massage._

“You are so tense, Lance,” Lotor kneaded harder and Lance whimpered as it _hurt,_ but, but it wasn’t… 

It wasn’t what he’d thought was about to happen.

He still couldn’t stop shaking.

Lotor was quiet as he continued the massage, hands going lower to Lance’s hips that had him jerking away and Lotor chuckling, to hard presses down his spine, to larger, wider presses against his back.

He never went any lower.

He didn’t try to reach around, to prod at Lance’s stomach or chest, didn’t order him to do anything.

It was pathetic that that was what he was grateful for.

But Lance was a pathetic, stupid, _weak_ boy so…

He dug his hands into the blankets and waited for it to be over. 

And while Lance was still tense he was no longer rigid by the time Lotor gracefully slid himself off of Lance and then off the bed, finally letting himself fully exhale.

Lotor hadn’t...

“I bid you a good evening, Lance,” Lotor said, hand landing on Lance’s no doubt reddened shoulder and trailing his fingers along it. “And I offer you one more reward for your good behavior.”

He bent down, hair tickling Lance’s back and breath hot against Lance’s neck and ear. “I promise, on my word as emperor, that you shall not be disturbed until breakfast is served tomorrow morning. Unless,” his voice lilted into a tease, “you would like some company…”

Lance gave a shake of his head against the blankets. 

“Then good night. And pleasant dreams.”

Lotor’s hand left his back, his footsteps left the room, and the soft sound of the door clicking shut indicated he’d left the suite.

Lance was alone. 

Alone with the promise — and that had to mean something — that he would remain that way.

He let out a shaky breath.

Counted to ten just in case Lotor came back.

And then practically threw himself off the bed onto the floor. Within the minute he’d fumbled open his duffle bag, pulled on pajamas — and why hadn’t he brought long sleeves? Why hadn’t he grabbed his jacket? flinching with every touch of even his own hands, averting his gaze from his own body — even though he knew, he knew, they wouldn’t do anything but he needed to be covered up _now._

He’d crossed the room to his armor, summoned his bayard — and what did he think he was going to do with it? _Shoot_ someone? — but holding it, knowing he could defend himself if someone came in, made him feel a little bit better. 

That done he dragged the huge blanket off the bed — no more beds, he couldn’t do beds, with their mattresses and pillows and the way they shifted as more and more people climbed on and held him down and, and — and huddled down — hidden, he needed to hide — into the narrow walkway between the bed and wall out of sight from the rest of the room, wrapping the blanket both about himself and making an almost nest with the remainder.

He curled up in it, heart hammering and body shaking and without an audience he could feel the hot tears he’d tried so hard to hold back starting to form.

“You’re,” his voice was barely a breath, wavering on tears, “you’re f-fine.”

He wasn’t.

Not at all.

“You’re safe.”

For now.

Only on Lotor’s word. 

“You’re, you’re gonna be…” Lance hiccuped on the word. “Oh-okay.”

He didn’t know that.

But, but he had to be.

Later though.

Because right now…

Right now there was no one else here.

No one he had to impress, to appease, no game to figure out, no act to put on.

And hidden away from the world and cruel, mocking yellow eyes…

Lance cried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, can Lotor traumatize Lance any more? (is that a challenge? ;p) I saw how a couple of you noted in your comments about Lotor's role in this and you are absolutely correct: he's setting himself up as this sort of 'savior' character. He's obviously ordering the assault and pulling all the strings, but he's not getting his own hands dirty so to speak. He's 'helping' Lance; cleaning him up, making sure he eats, now giving him a massage and then a promise that he's 'safe' now all while continuing to silence him and scare him and constantly make him feel off balance while at the same time praising him in front of Allura and Shiro. It's such delightful manipulation to write ♥ 
> 
> Thanks so much to those who left a comment last chapter, I really appreciate it ♥ It means a lot to hear from readers, so please consider leaving a comment down below before you go; share a favorite scene, detail, line, a feeling, etc.; the small details make my day. Thank you ♥


	9. Nine

“Red Lion is here and ready to bring the heat,” Lance checked in to the Voltron roll call, pulling the Red Lion up alongside the Yellow Lion, the words tasting like bile on his tongue and he was glad he hadn’t eaten any of the breakfast Lotor had delivered to his room.

He didn’t want to be peppy, certainly didn’t feel that way, but that was the tone they would all be expecting and acting 101 started now.

“ _Lance!”_ Hunk sounded over the comms and Lance could picture his wide grin. “ _How’d it—?”_

 _“Later, Hunk,”_ Shiro cut in. _“Mission first.”_

And Lance hated that he was grateful for the interruption because lying to Hunk was something he really didn’t want to do and Hunk was going to be his biggest liability as they’d known each other since kids, brothers in all but blood, and he would _know_ something was wrong if Lance acted as he had last night, crying and shaking and flinching at every touch as memories and phantom hands caressed him and whispers that he’d wanted this, that this was a favor, that he was weak and pathetic and a _whore_ and the only thing he was good for was his body, plagued him both awake and in what little sleep he’d managed around the nightmares.

But Lotor had been true to his word and the only visitor he’d had was a Galran attendant knocking that morning to deliver breakfast and then another an hour later who had escorted him back to the Red Lion and Lance almost hadn’t believed he was going to escape without having to encounter Lotor again, but he would take it.

He’d boarded Red and gotten his first real test as the Lion, generally aloof to him except for the few times she’d shared his thrill for speed and chase in the heat of battle, had batted her consciousness up against his and Lance had, for the first time since he’d become her pilot, sensed that she was…

Worried.

But whereas Blue would try to soothe him, protect him, gently curl around him and offer her presence when he felt capable of talking and she would always, always listen, Red had come in like a fire, her demands for answers just as hot, and worry had made her even more volatile than normal.

Lance couldn’t talk to her.

He’d tried, many times before, but she had always shut him out, always leaving him with the sense that _he_ wasn’t the Paladin she wanted.

He more than understood.

He was a pathetic, weak replacement for Keith. 

And so he hadn’t pursued, hadn’t tried to bond with her outside of what they needed to do to work together for missions.

And so now…

Now he couldn’t.

She couldn’t start caring about him now when she never had before.

He’d pushed her away, wincing as she had seared against his mind, and done his best to shut her out.

It did tell him though that his thoughts were an absolute mess if even the Red Lion was picking up his distress and he had to pull it together, had to plaster on a smile, because no one could ever find out what had happened.

He’d been working on his entrance the entire ride over to the rendezvous point and he had never been more grateful that the Lions could only take transmissions from each other or the castle, save the Black Lion and Blue Lions, who had been retrofitted with Pidge’s tech to take calls directly from Lotor, so there was no pressure on him to converse with Lotor and try to decipher his comments.

It was over.

It was done.

Lance had learned his lesson.

No more talking, no more trying to be a leader, no more ideas of his own.

He was a follower and he followed Shiro’s orders (who followed Lotors) with no questions asked. 

And, and maybe, a few months from now when this had faded (would it ever fade? Would he ever forget? Would he ever be okay?) he could find the courage to suggest a plan to Shiro, a tweak somewhere and maybe that would be all right.

But Shiro and Lotor talked and if Shiro said that Lance had been contradicting him and Lotor invited him to come to the palace under the guise of diplomatic relations again how was Lance supposed to say no without coming off as beyond rude?

He couldn’t.

So he had to say nothing.

Words had power and his words had to have none.

And right now, following Shiro’s (Lotor’s) orders without any side talking so he could try to pull himself together, keep working on his mask, and by the time the mission ended he would be back to himself.

It was a foolish hope.

But he was foolish and stupid, so… so maybe it would work.

It had to.

And…

His hands tightened on Red’s controls.

He _still_ didn’t like this plan, didn’t like that Voltron was essentially being used for bait against an ion cannon. But there was nothing he could do except follow orders and hoped this worked as flawlessly as Shiro and Lotor had envisioned.

Twenty minutes later and Lance could report it absolutely was not.

Because the Vlioan outpost didn’t have one ion cannon.

It had three.

Shiro was ordering them to stand their ground, to protect the transport ships behind them that Empire soldiers were shuttling the quintessence cannisters — highly volatile and Lance still wasn’t sure why their removal couldn’t wait until _after_ the base was secure but it wasn’t his place to question anything anymore — from the base and continue to draw ion cannon fire — and how had _no one_ on the inside incapaciated even one operator? — and other defenses. 

The Lions were taking heavy fire and while Lance, Pidge and Allura were avoiding most direct hits, Black and Yellow were not so lucky as they were acting as shields to the transport ships with their larger bulks. And Lance knew that’s how they were designed, knew they could take a hit, but seeing them — especially Yellow with Hunk inside — being blasted made his stomach clench and his heartrate rocket.

This wasn’t _right._

“ _Guys!”_ Hunk sounded over the comms in a burst of static, voice high and panicked. _“Yellow’s not responding! Her, her shield is down and—”_

Hunk cut himself off with a gasp.

Lance could see why.

The largest ion cannon had finished charging again and was angling right at the Yellow Lion, floating listlessly in space.

Even from this distance Lance could see the shield plating — that he’d _told_ Lotor was still under repair — was completely blasted off, Yellow’s innards sparking. 

Hunk was going to get hit.

Hunk was going to get _hurt._

No one else was close.

Red was fast.

Lance was moving before he gave himself permission, Shiro’s orders for Hunk to stay there, for Lance to return to his post of guarding a different transport ship, was white noise in Lance’s ears.

Not again.

He was not going to let Hunk get hurt again.

“ _Lance!”_ Hunk sounded terrified. _“Lance, n—!”_

The cannon discharged.

Red crashed into Yellow.

The ion blast crashed into Red.

And the last sound Lance heard was his own scream.

xxx

“—ance, Lance, Lance,” a hand was patting both frantically and yet gently at Lance’s face that he instinctually knew belonged to Hunk. “L-Lance, wake up. Wake up, _hermano._ Please. Lance, L-Lan—”

Hunk’s voice cut off with a sharp inhale and the patting ceased.

“L-Lance? Are, are you…?”

Lance let out a groan in answer, world a giant, fuzzy, turning blur and he had no inclination to move ever again as his mind tried to fill in the gaps as to why it felt like that.

“Lance!”

Hunk had other ideas and Lance found himself being crushed against an armored chest, Hunk’s arms squeezing him tight and—

— _clawed hands squeezing him against a bare chest, lips pressed against his, a tongue down his throat, while another body was behind him,_ in _him and—_

Lance let out a yell, arms flailing and pushing against Hunk, and Hunk nearly dropped him as Lance threw himself backwards, slamming into the back of a chair and he realized he was still in Red’s cockpit.

Because they’d been on a mission.

A mission he hadn’t wanted to do because it was dangerous and Lotor hadn’t liked that and he’d, he’d…

Lance’s stomach turned over and he shoved the memory away.

Not now.

He couldn’t panic now.

Not in front of Hunk.

Hunk, who had almost _died,_ because the mission _had_ been dangerous and—

Lance paled.

He’d abandoned his post.

The, the transport ship! Had, had it…? Would Lotor…

 _Dios,_ what had he _done?_

“H-Hunk,” he gasped out. 

“Lance,” Hunk’s lip wobbled.

And all of the panic blinked out in the face of Hunk’s clear distress. 

Because Hunk had almost died.

Except he hadn’t.

Because Lance had…

Hunk was lunging forward to hug him again and Lance flinched as too large, too constricting, of arms wrapped around him but he didn’t dare pull away, tried not to go rigid because it was _Hunk_ and Hunk would never, ever hurt him.

Lance shakily returned the embrace, head dropping — sans helmet, Hunk must have yanked it off — onto Hunk’s shoulder to hide his face.

“I was so scared,” Hunk whispered, breath hot on Lance’s ear and he tried not to shudder. “I was so sc-scared, Lance. Wh-why did you…?” 

They both knew the answer to that question. 

Hunk squeezed him tighter. 

Lance fought to remind himself it was Hunk.

He was safe here.

 _Hunk_ was safe.

And that’s what all of this had been about. That’s what mattered. 

“The Red Lion’s still offline,” Hunk murmured and that explained the absence of presence in Lance’s mind, in the hot demands he could never answer. “And I, um,” he could practically feel Hunk color. “I, I may have sort of broke the cargo door to get in here. But I can fix it! I promise!”

As if that mattered.

Lance didn’t answer, 

“You, you’re okay?” Hunk asked. “When that blast hit… God, Lance, I th-thought… and you weren’t r-responding and—”

“Lance!” Shiro’s voice rang out, and the sound of heavy footsteps sounded, followed by a heavy sigh of relief and a muttered, “thank God,” as he no doubt caught sight of Lance clearly alive and Lance pulled his face free from Hunk’s shoulder to look at Shiro, who had a hand on his comms and relayed such to likely the rest of the team.

And then his expression went from relieved to angry in a blink.

“What were you thinking?” Shiro demanded. “You could have been killed!”

Lance flinched even though he knew he deserved it.

But…

“Hunk—”

“Would have been fine,” Shiro interjected. “The Yellow Lion is built to take hits, even with systems down.”

Lance didn’t know if that was true.

He didn’t think it was.

Not like that.

He shook his head slightly, afraid to contradict more.

Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s admirable to protect a friend, Lance, but you need to _think._ You could have been _killed_ and it’s a miracle you’re okay,” and Shiro’s eyes roved him up and down in the chair as though confirming that and Lance tried not to shiver as while Shiro’s gaze was nothing like theirs he hated feeling any eyes on him now. “You are okay?” he confirmed.

Lance gave a tiny nod.

A little sore, but not from this attack.

His insides squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Is…” Lance swallowed. “Is Red…?”

“The cannon disrupted all of her systems but shields look to have taken the brunt of it,” Shiro said and Lance let out a small breath.

_Gracias a Dios._

He hadn’t even thought about Red — and that was wrong too but he felt hot guilt that just because he had been pushing her out didn’t mean he should endanger her — and she could have easily been badly damaged.

“However,” Shiro continued, and he pinched the bridge of his nose again, suddenly looking years older, “the transport ship you were guarding was caught by another cannon. And given that it was carrying highly explosive quintessence…”

Lance swallowed.

He knew without Shiro saying it.

It had blown up.

Lotor must be so…

So _angry._

Lance shivered. 

But, but it would be okay. Lance was never, ever, going back there.

They couldn’t make him. 

“Come on,” Shiro gestured and Lance belatedly realized that they must be back at the castle and someone had towed Red back. “We need to go to the bridge and debrief.”

And although Lance hadn’t felt bad earlier…

He felt sick now.

He couldn’t face Lotor.

But saying no after he’d just told Shiro he was okay…

Trapped.

“Come on,” Shiro repeated. “Let’s go.”

And Lance had no choice but to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a little hard for me to post this chapter. Not because of any particular content (this one very tame compared to many others in here) but for two reasons. One; the drop in engagement is always sad to see and it's the reason I made the decision to no longer really post on AO3 once I wrap all of these incomplete chaptered stories up. Posting is hard and it's even more difficult for chaptered stories and doubly so for emotionally draining ones like this and hearing from readers really helps and then not hearing from them is the opposite. Support goes both ways and appreciation for creators will never go amiss ♥ And two; I was attacked over comments and told that my works involving rape and non-con situations were toxic and that I was harming people by posting them. I have never written these stories for shock value or to glorify rape/assault and I have always been very upfront with the fact the majority of them were written to help the commissioners process and heal from their own assaults and experiences and I share them publicly to hopefully help others to do the same, with clear warnings as to the content and the knowledge that if anyone feels uncomfortable or unsafe reading it to click off. These stories are _always_ written with the victim in mind. Even if you haven't experienced anything like this, there can be something gratifying in seeing someone brought so low and build themselves back up, to see support from others, and to watch someone heal. I explained this and this person, who claimed to be a therapist, continued to attack me, to refuse to listen (or to move the conversation to email as I had originally asked as I use the comment section as my own form of healing when I'm feeling down and need a pick me up and a nod to point one here for that), and even though I stand behind why I write these stories and who is involved in them and what happens, this person made me feel awful and sick and their blatant disregard for the fact that people heal in all different ways was ignored. The only thing they could focus on was the "pattern" of my rape fics (of which, I have written over 190 fanfictions and there are less than 10 stories spread out over 4 years that handle rape/assault content) and how I show toxic relationships. As you can tell by this wall of text, I'm still a bit upset by it but it's been over a week and I'm trying to move past it. I've been reading comments on those fics and reminding myself just how many people my written words have touched and helped and that does help me, it just really makes me sad and disheartened that someone can be so judgmental and cruel and do so hiding behind a wall of anonymity. 
> 
> Giant wall of text over, thank you if you managed to read it. If you have a moment after all that and are reading the fic, I would love and appreciate very much if you left a comment about the chapter before you go. Thank you very much and thank you to those who did so last chapter ♥


	10. Ten

Lotor wasn’t angry.

He was calm, understanding, and just so glad that Lance wasn’t hurt.

And that was far more terrifying.

Lance kept waiting for the axe to fall, for Lotor to pin him down with his yellow and purple gaze, but Lotor barely even looked at him, discussing the rest of the mission — mainly a success and the outpost safely secured — and Lance had been dismissed along with Hunk and Pidge and he had gratefully gone.

Pidge had latched herself about his waist and Lance had weakly proclaimed he was a little sore when he’d immediately recoiled from her touch even if it was  _ nothing  _ like theirs and she’d removed herself and given him a soft for her punch to his arm and said he deserved to be for scaring her like that.

He also looked  _ awful,  _ and she’d peered at his face with such intensity that Lance could feel the fragile mask he’d pulled on during the debriefing starting to crack.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Lance admitted, which was true. 

“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit?” Hunk suggested gently. “We can hear all about your visit over dinner?”

Lance managed a weak smile at the last part but inwardly he was breathing a sigh of relief to escape and that was so wrong too because these were his friends, his best friends, and he couldn’t look them in the eye. “Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll see you guys later then.”

Lance ended up in the bathroom first though.

The shower, specifically.

For almost two hours.

He probably would have done the same at the palace except that would mean being naked for a period of time and he would never leave himself that vulnerable even with Lotor’s promise and the fact his room was lacking a shower, just the bathtub. 

And the shower wasn’t an entirely pleasant experience. It made him see his body (so he kept his eyes closed) and the water running down his legs made him think of other things that had, and his own touch as he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed with the soap bar made him flinch, but at the same time for the briefest moments it made him feel clean and not…

Not like some dirty whore. 

It also hid the sounds of his sobs and if hot tears mixed with water then who knew the difference?

Lance stayed until the soap bar ran out, until the water went from hot to warm and he was surprised no one had demanded he come out. For once though his penchant for long showers worked in his favor as it wasn’t suspicious.

Hopefully.

More suspicious was the fact he’d brought a change of clothes to the bathroom when normally he just walked about in a towel, but not even counting for the fact he felt far too exposed showing any skin, he had bite and claw marks and those would not be so easy to explain. So a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie that bunched to hide the back of his neck, and sweats and socks later, he was exiting the bathroom and beelining for his bedroom.

Where his bed, neatly made with his quilt collection piled on its foot was waiting.

Lance swallowed. 

If, if Hunk came to get him and he was curled up on the floor that would definitely be suspicious.

It was his bed.

It, it was fine.

Nothing was going to happen to him here.

Lance slowly climbed into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and two more quilts on top of that, bundling them all to his chest.

He shuddered out a breath.

Safe.

He was safe.

He was okay.

He was fine.

And he had to remain that way.

Lance let out another breath and closed his eyes.

And while his sleep was restless and touched with nightmares and phantom hands…

Lance did sleep.

xxx

Something was going on.

Allura kept glancing at him during dinner and beaming at nothing in particular and Shiro had given Lance a solemn nod but a small smile and given that Lance’s actions had been the reason Lotor had lost an entire transport and the mission hadn’t been entirely a success those expressions should be the last things on their faces.

It made him uneasy.

What had they discussed with Lotor after he’d left the room?

What had he said?

Lance was doing his best not to concentrate on that and focus instead on smiling and nodding and redirecting questions about his visit to the palace with the clause of it was confidential and for some reason that only garnered a larger smile from Allura and Lance’s stomach had turned over around the few bites of the delicious meal Hunk had made that he’d forced himself to eat because did…

Did she know something?

But she couldn’t.

If, if she knew what had happened…

She’d be so ashamed of him, disgusted, and definitely not looking at him like  _ that.  _

If… if only she looked at him the way she looked at Lotor.

But, but even then, right now…

He didn’t even want Allura to touch him.

He felt so  _ dirty. _

He wanted to hide in his room and not come out until he’d somehow convinced himself it had all been one, horrible, awful nightmare and— 

“Oh!” Allura’s hands hit the table, sending silverware clattering and Lance was not the only one who startled. “I cannot wait any longer!”

And Lance knew before Allura even said his name that he was somehow involved.

“Lance,” Allura smiled at him, beaming with pride, “Lotor has asked for you to serve as an ambassador of Voltron to the Galran High Council!”

Lance blinked.

The words percolated. 

Lotor wanted him to…

To… 

“What?” it came out a croak, but that didn’t seem to dampen Allura’s spirits whatsoever.

This, this couldn’t be—

“Lotor said you had provided insight and impressed the High Council,” Shiro cut in, “and despite the… miscommunication earlier today,” and Lance couldn’t even wince at the reminder, hands shaking in his lap no matter how tight he curled his fists because this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening, “Lotor said he saw it as an opportunity for us to continue to learn from one another. He is asking that you return to the palace tomorrow for about a week to begin the ambassadorship. This,” Shiro’s lips pulled into a soft smile, “is a really amazing honor, Lance. I’m so proud of you. You really made an impression.”

Lance could taste his dinner coming back up.

Lotor was… was  _ forcing  _ Lance to return to the palace where…

Where…

Oh  _ Dios.  _

And, and if he said no, he didn’t want to do it, then they would know something was wrong and they’d find out and they could never find out and oh  _ Dios  _ what did he say what did he do he couldn’t go back he couldn’t he couldn’t he— 

“Number Three?” Coran interrupted his thoughts, too sharp of jeweled-eyes peering at him although unlike sharp yellow pairs there was only concern here. “Are you all right?”

Lance couldn’t answer that.

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t be.

It was going to happen again.

And he couldn’t stop it.

Oh  _ Dios.  _

“Lance?” Hunk leaned towards him and Lance jolted as a well-meaning hand landed on his shoulder. “What is it?”

He was messing everything up.

Say something.

He had to say something.

Anything.

“I’m,” his voice came out too high, too breathy, and Lance swallowed. “I’m just… sur-surprised.”

“Well I’m not,” and Pidge’s voice was hot and as Lance looked to her she smirked before it gentled into a soft smile he wasn’t used to seeing on her. “I’m not,” she repeated, holding his gaze, “tailor.”

The nickname hit him with a wave of nostalgia, of when his biggest fear had been failing simulation tests because he was already a cargo pilot, but he’d been a leader, had a team of his own, and…

And…

“Oh no, Pidge, you’re making him cry!” Hunk admonished without any heat, words teasing even as his hand squeezed Lance’s shoulder. “She’s right though,  _ hermano.  _ You  _ are  _ amazing and I’m so happy for you. But,” and Hunk’s voice lowered, “if you don’t want to do it… you don’t have to. You know that, right?”

Lance gave a jerk of his head, even though he knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

But, but they were forgetting one thing.

“What,” he swallowed, “what about Voltron? If, if there’s an emergency—”

“I can create a wormhole to have you back within but a few dobashes,” Allura assured. “Lotor has already said all Voltron duties would take priority.”

Lance felt faint.

Lotor had it all figured out.

He’d played it up so well, embellished Lance even though he didn’t believe a word of it, and yet it was his words that held all of the power. 

He…

He had to go.

But…

But he  _ couldn’t.  _

_ Dios,  _ he couldn’t.

Lotor would want to punish him for today, for disobeying the plan. 

But if he didn’t…

Already he could see Allura’s face beginning to fall, her excitement dimming, and he felt around the growing dread even colder despair that he was disappointing her.

And, and maybe it would be different.

Lance wouldn’t let them do that. He’d stop them. He, he wouldn’t let himself be…

Be…

“I’ll,” his voice didn’t even sound like his own. “I’ll go.”

“You are sure, lad?” Coran asked, and he was frowning in direct contrast to Allura’s bright smile once more.

Lance nodded. “Y-yeah. It’s, it’s an honor, right?”

“Right,” Coran agreed although his frown remained.

Lance tried to smile.

It would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

It had to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of those who left such kind messages of both support and commentary on the fanfic last chapter. I was so touched and it meant so much to me. Thank you ♥ I firmly believe in the power words have (note the title of the story) but actions have power too and I wanted to not just say thank you but show it and got this next chapter up really, really quick for you all ♥ I will admit though I was a bit surprised with not just the amount of new names I saw last chapter, but how many commented they've been long-time readers that I've also never seen on any story before. As I noted in some comment responses, I don't know that you are reading my works unless you leave a comment. Even if it's just a few words, please do consider leaving a comment for any author you read. They will **love** hearing from you no matter how short, how long (and never apologize for a long comment ;p), if there are grammar/spelling mistakes... Engagement and support is so very important, and not just during a time of duress (like last chapter) for the author. Thank you very much for your consideration of doing so and your further support and engagement ♥
> 
> As to this chapter: back to the palace we go. This saga sadly isn't quite over yet for Lance and Lotor has him backed into a corner with the quick turnaround back to the palace because as good of an actor as Lance is he will slip up right eventually, as we can see with both Hunk and Coran, and he can't have that (neither can Lotor but Lance isn't able to see it that way right now with how off balance and scared and ashamed he is). But on a positive note, look how proud everyone of Voltron is. _They_ think Lance can do this and is worthy of this (on the surface) great honor and that speaks volumes itself ♥


	11. Eleven

“I will give you until the count of ten,” Lotor’s voice echoed in the hangar where Lance was still sitting in Red’s cockpit twenty minutes after landing, hands tight on the armrests as he tried to prepare himself, “or I will be alerting Princess Allura that her Paladin is behaving like a child.”

Lance’s hands tightened on the armrests.

Red butted up against his mind, concern hot and searing and just as he had the trip over Lance pushed her aside.

Not now.

There was nothing she could do.

This was up to Lance to fix.

He had to show Lotor that he wasn’t going to be, be bullied. Or intimidated. This was a game, a giant power trip for Lotor.

Lance refused to play.

He’d come here to be an ambassador. Even if Lotor’s words had been false to force him here, Allura and Shiro had believed them. _They_ were proud of him. Everyone on Voltron was. They thought he did deserve the ambassadorship, that he did make a good delegate and _their_ words were what mattered. 

They gave Lance the bit of courage he’d needed to come here. He would put what Lotor had had done to him behind him, he would move forward (or at least try his very best).

But, but that meant Lotor had to let things go too. 

And that was where Lance was worried.

But his team believed in him.

That meant something.

They were worried too — Hunk and Coran especially — and Lance couldn't let them find out. He’d confided to Hunk, lies mixed with truth, after dinner that he was worried he would mess this up and it was such a big responsibility and Allura and Shiro were counting on him and… Hunk had given him a hug that Lance had forced himself to return and told Lance he absolutely deserved this and no matter what he did he would do a great job and they were all already proud of him.

Lance had tasted bile and swallowed it back, nodded and pulled on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but the plant of nerves and failure had done their work and Hunk hadn’t pushed any further, suspicion for the moment gone. 

Coran too had sought him out, in his room before bed and it had taken all Lance had to open the door, voice light but eyes sharp and maybe it was he who was going to be Lance’s biggest liability, as he said he saw Lance had been wincing earlier and given the attack he thought it might be a good idea to conduct a quick exam and just make sure Lance was all right. No pods, he promised, something knowing there, but even then Lance had felt his heart leap into his throat because Coran would find the bruises and the bite marks and he’d know it wasn’t the mission that was causing him to flinch and then he’d _know_ and that could absolutely not happen.

He was fine, he’d assured, nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix. 

Coran still hadn’t left.

If, he said, voice soft and gentle, there was something Lance wanted to talk about—

No, no, Lance interrupted, feeling his smile ready to crack but forcing it to remain. He was just… worried. And, and a little scared. This, this was a big responsibility and… his eyes had dropped, he wasn’t sure he deserved it. Not after how things had gone today.

Coran’s hands had landed on his shoulders — and Lance had already had his crash course with Hunk so he didn’t pull back, didn’t outwardly flinch, and stood his ground for the well meaning gesture — and murmured that while what Lance hadn’t followed orders, he’d followed his heart and that, his hands had squeezed, was the far better course of action. Lance had only nodded, unable to voice that no, not according to Lotor and Shiro, but it made his chest ache because he so badly wanted that to be true. Coran had echoed Hunk that he knew Lance would do a remarkable job, but, if for any reason he decided the ambassadorship position wasn’t what he wanted — and if he only knew and he never, ever could — then all Lance had to do was let them know and he could come home.

Lance had nodded, thanked Coran, and before he had to lie again had said he was really tired — and he was, even if it wasn’t entirely a physical exhaustion — and needed to go to bed. Coran had bid him a good night, eyes still worried but no longer sharp, no longer searching, and just like Hunk his immediate suspicion gone.

Lance had to keep it that way.

Starting now. 

Lance took a deep breath, pulled himself from the seat, grabbed his duffle — which included his armor and he’d put on the Galran outfit from last time to both try to show some level of respect and also avoid any dress code issue, although his bayard was secured on his hip and he was _not_ leaving it — and coaxed himself to head down the ramp.

Lotor smiled at him as he touched the hangar floor, eyes raking him up and down.

“Much better.”

Lance didn’t so much as smile.

One hand tightened on his duffle strap and the other landed on his bayard.

“Lotor—”

“Emperor,” Lotor cut in, voice still pleasant but eyes narrowing.

Lance swallowed.

If, if he didn’t stand up to Lotor now then he wouldn’t be able to and then…

Then… 

“ _Lotor,”_ he emphasized as until Lotor used his title in private he did not have to do the same. It was another power game and he was done with them. “I came here to serve as Voltron’s ambassador. And, and if there was,” he swallowed again, “something else you had planned… I’m leaving right now.”

He hadn’t quite known what Lotor’s reaction to that would be, but the low laugh and amused shake of Lotor’s head wasn’t quite it.

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” Lotor took a step towards him and it took everything Lance had not to take one back. “What do you think is going to happen to you, hm?”

Lance didn’t answer that, lips pressed against one another.

They both knew.

Lotor shook his head again.

“Foolish boy. I invited you to be an ambassador, the one chance you might have to try to do something of actual value, but if you do not want the position then go,” he waved at hand at Red, “and be on your way.”

Lance’s hand tightened on the duffle strap. 

Lotor sounded sincere. Like, like he actually wanted this to work out for both of their sides.

But…

But he hadn’t told Lance that nothing would happen.

He hadn’t promised. 

And, and Lance couldn’t go through that again.

“Very well,” Lotor said to his silence. “Be on your way as I have a meeting to attend and must be on mine. I shall alert the princess you were not up to the task and inform the council of the same. I am sure she will be quite disappointed but,” Lotor’s lips curled, “not surprised.”

And Lotor turned on his heel, hair flipping out behind him, and walked away.

Just like that.

Lance remained rooted to the spot, heart thundering.

He’d just been…

Been dismissed.

What…

What did he do?

He bit his lip.

Lotor was going to the council meeting, right? Lance knew where the meeting room was. He could go there too and even though three of the High Council members were in on it… not all of them could be and Lotor wouldn’t dare do anything to him there. And, and Lance had his bayard. He wouldn’t kill anyone but he could stun them if Lotor tried anything after and…

And he was being stupid, as foolish as Lotor told him he was.

But, but if Lotor told Allura he’d refused then she _would_ be disappointed and she’d been so proud and she was finally _looking_ at him and he didn't have a good excuse (not one he could ever tell them) as to why he didn't want to be the ambassador, especially after telling them last night he would and _Dios_ he didn't know what to do. 

Which version of Lotor did he trust? The one that heaped praise upon him to Allura and Shiro and expressed how glad he was that Lance was all right? Or the one that told him he was doing this as a favor, that he meant nothing, and the only thing of value about him was his body?

Lance swallowed.

And he took a shaky step forward.

And another.

He was being so stupid.

He was being brave.

He was going to get hurt.

He was going to defend himself.

Lotor was going to try something.

Lance was going to be the better person.

He had to be. If he didn't do this then they'd know something was wrong and they'd ask and he couldn't tell them, they could never, ever, know what he'd allowed to happen to him.

He exited out of the hangar.

The hallway was empty, Lotor long gone up the staircase.

The time was ten minutes till ten hundred hours, which is no doubt when the meeting would start.

Lance had time.

He could make it there and speak to Lotor privately — in the safety of the council room — and tell him he would be the ambassador but he wouldn’t allow himself to be… Lance flushed and gave a shake of his head. He wouldn’t allow it.

And, and that’s how it was going to go.

Lance nodded.

And he hurried for the staircase, passing multiple other hangar doors, past the waiting ro—

Lance made a choking noise as a hand — furred and clawed — caught in the back of his collar and yanked him clear off his feet into the room. Before he could even reach for his bayard another hand was snapping it off his belt and he was driven back against the wall with a _thud_ that made his brain rattle, feet dangling off the ground and hand now around his throat.

It had nothing on his racing heart as he stared into three sets of matching yellow eyes and a pair of amused purple and yellow.

No.

No, this couldn’t be…

He kicked out, but Kajik’s grip didn’t lessen even as his foot — in those flimsy slippers and why had he worn them? — connected.

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” Lotor chided from where he was standing behind the other three Galrans. “You truly are a foolish boy, aren’t you?”

Lance only managed a gasp, hands clawing at the grip holding him tight as black spots danced in his vision.

“You are an ambassador now,” Lotor continued. “And part of being an ambassador means apologizing for mistakes made. Actions have consequences, Lance. And let me see here…”

Lotor began to tick on his fingers.

“You abandoned the transport ship you had been assigned to protect. Not only did your actions result in the loss of the ship and several hundred canisters of quintessence, fourteen loyal Galra Empire soldiers also perished.”

Lance’s weak attempts to free himself froze.

What?

People had… that many people had…?

“But, most egregious,” Lotor smirked, “is that you disobeyed _me._ You made a decision on your own, Lance that, just like I told you, would get people hurt. And so you must learn your lesson. You must pay for these mistakes. But this time it is not just a lesson I am asking them to bestow upon you, it is punishment.”

And staring straight at Lance, Lotor smiled, eyes dancing with cruelty.

“Break him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna make me cry happy tears. Thank you so so so much for being such engaged, lovely readers. It means so much. I've been having a bit of a rough patch with some work and personal things and it's been so good for me to come back and read what y'all have written in the comments. Thank you ♥ I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to comments last update; see above. But I am getting another chapter out super quick (and if this keeps up the story will be finished before March!) so I hope you enjoy it ♥ If you can please do leave a comment below, it means so much ♥
> 
> As to some details of this chapter: the commissioner wanted the assault to happen multiple times and not for anyone to find out until later (and Coran and Hunk know something's off but just like with _Your Biggest Fan_ Lance is an expert at deflection mixed with truth), so to realistically do so (as no matter the request I will keep things fully in character and with realistic plots and actions) Lance needed to both a; head back to Lotor's asap and b; it needed to make logical sense for Lance's character to make that decision. Lance is desperate not to disappoint those he wants to impress and he'll put himself in harm's way to keep them from worrying about him and he feels too ashamed and scared to tell them what's really going on. And now that he's gone back on his own volition (although he was manipulated into doing so) Lotor has even more ammunition that Lance "wanted this" since he came back and he'll use that to further control Lance. And just for canon timeline purposes as this is following those events (even if we aren't going to see them): Lotor doesn't need Lance to keep up this charade for forever; he's plotting his own moves and just needs Lance quiet and not causing issues for him presently so he can continue to secure Shiro and Allura's cooperation for his own takeover of the universe. He doesn't care what happens to Lance after and he's enjoying the manipulation and power and the game he's playing with Lance in the present. P.s. a couple chapters coming up will be graphic (not so much as previous ones but still) and they will be marked with additional warnings at the top.


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning notes: sexual content ahead**

Lance couldn’t move.

Even breathing, every shuddered exhale, hurt.

He desperately wanted to draw his legs up, to curl up into the most pathetic ball as though that could hide him on the red and purple stained couch, but even shifting a leg sent fire racing inside him and he could feel more things leaking out and, and…

Lance muffled the sob against his shoulder.

Break him, Lotor had ordered.

They had.

There had been no lubricant except for what they pounded into him.

There had been no gentleness in any of their touches as claws ripped into skin, as teeth bit down on — on his tongue, his lips, his skin, his… Lance flushed at the too recent memory of Varion, despite Lotor’s warning, between his legs, his mouth wrapped around Lance and he’d…

He’d…

He felt so sick.

He felt so dirty.

He felt so  _ used.  _

His throat was raw from both screaming as they ripped him apart from the inside and as they’d forced him to swallow again and again and again.

His stomach ached as though he’d dranken too much water.

He wished it had been water.

He could still taste it no matter how many times he’d gagged.

That still hadn’t been enough for them.

Break him, Lotor had ordered.

He was only so big and they…

They hadn’t cared.

He’d been forced over the back of the couch and with Ulat standing in front and jamming himself down Lance’s throat both Kajik and Varion, at the same time, they’d…

They didn’t fit.

They made themselves fit.

And the groans they’d made, the moans as they tore him open, as they pushed harder, as his body both screamed with pain and felt a sick sense of fullness and reacted to the sounds of their pleasure before the pain overrode it…

He…

He really was just a body, wasn’t he?

A whore?

He…

He never should have come here.

He should have listened to Hunk. He should have said no.

Now…

Now…

Another sob tore through him and it only made him cry more as his entire body bore it.

Weak, they’d called him. Pathetic. A whore, a slut.

He deserved this.

He  _ wanted  _ this. 

That was the worst.

He didn’t.

But he’d come here, they whispered in his ear. He was given the chance to leave and he didn’t take it.

Stupid, idiot whore.

This was all his doing.

And…

And they were right.

They were  _ right. _

It made the tears come faster.

They were right.

Lotor was right.

He was stupid.

He was weak. He hadn’t been able to do  _ anything  _ to stop them as they pinned him up against the couch, as they twisted his arms and pulled apart his legs, as they forced his head down.

They’d left his bayard on the seat of the nearest armchair, taunting him with it.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut.

He…

He wasn’t worthy of a bayard.

He wasn’t worthy to be a Paladin.

He was just a stupid, useless whore and he had been so stupid as to believe he could be more.

Footsteps, slow and measured, sounded down the hallway — they’d left the door open behind them when they left, inviting anyone coming from the hangars to look in and see him and even knowing that Lance couldn’t seem to move — and Lance knew without looking that Lotor had returned.

He didn’t announce himself as he entered the room but there was the quiet  _ click  _ of the door closing and those same slow footsteps came closer. 

And even though he’d prepared for it Lance still flinched as Lotor’s hand landed on his shoulder, gently trailing fingers down his back in a way that felt even more wrong than the harsh touches of before.

“Look at you,” Lotor murmured, hand going lower and pausing right at the crease of his lower back. “You make such a pretty whore, Lance. But…” his hand lifted away, “I need an ambassador now. Time to get you cleaned up for our meeting in, let’s see… ten dobashes.”

Lance’s brain froze.

He had the strongest, sickest feeling of deja vu. 

Because, just like last time, Lotor was going to make him go out there and…

But, but even last time he’d had longer. He hadn’t feel like this. 

He couldn’t even move.

He didn’t  _ want  _ to move.

He just…

He didn’t want to do anything except rewind time.

He’d been so  _ stupid. _

“Let’s see,” Lotor said and Lance’s breath hitched as one of Lotor’s hand landed on his rear and the other went between his thighs and pushed his legs apart, sending more things leaking out and Lance went both pale and red.

“Lotor,” it was barely a gasp as Lotor’s hand spread him wider.“St-stop.”

Please stop.

Lotor did not, his hold only tightening and he clucked his tongue. “They did indeed break you, didn’t they? I’m impressed. However, I do need you able to walk, so…”

Lotor’s hands shifted and Lance audibly gasped as something  _ cold  _ and  _ wet  _ was pushed inside of him and he jerked, which set the fires alight along with his cheeks and it worsened as Lotor chuckled and pushed the thing in deeper.

He’d, he’d thought…

Lotor had said…

Why did he believe  _ anything  _ Lotor said?

“Now, now, don’t think of me like that,” Lotor said, even as his  _ finger  _ was now partly inside him and Lance choked back the sob. “It’s medicine, foolish boy. A gel cube that as it dissolves will heal your insides. You should be thanking me for doing you this nice favor. Go ahead, tell me thank you.”

Lance gave a mute barely there shake of his head.

No.

This, this wasn’t a favor. None of this had been for Lance’s benefit.

“Lance,” Lotor’s voice dipped warningly and manicured nails squeezed Lance’s rear. “Do not make me have to correct your manners again.”

Lance’s eyes stung anew. 

“Thank,” it was barely a whisper, “you.”

“Emperor Lotor,” Lotor prompted. 

His finger pushed further in.

“Em-emperor Lotor,” Lance choked out.

“Good boy,” Lotor’s finger withdrew although the cold sensation — and Lance hated to admit it but now it did feel almost pleasant, like aloe on a burn and  _ Dios,  _ this wasn’t  _ right —  _ remained. “And with that, we don’t want all of that nice medicine to leak out. So…”

And something both hard and soft was pushed into him, but not all the way in and he could feel it brushing against raw skin on the outside.

Lotor patted his rear end gently. “There. That ought to hold. Now don’t push it out, Lance, or I will not be happy.”

And Lance realized with a new sense of mortification that Lotor had just… just put a  _ plug  _ in him. Like, like a bottle.

_ Dios,  _ this…

It never ended.

“It should stay better with some reinforcement,” Lotor mused. “But first…”

And something equally cold and wet but far coarser and larger landed with a  _ plop  _ on Lance’s arm and he lifted tear-lined eyes up.

A washcloth.

“Two dobashes. Clean yourself up,” Lotor ordered. “Or I shall do it for you.”

And he would, Lance knew. And he would not be kind about it.

He shakily reached out his opposite hand to pick up the washcloth.

His face came first, not much movement needed for it, as he scrubbed off, off  _ things  _ that had dried to his chin and lips, treating his neck the same. But most of the mess was down there and… and…

Lance braced trembling arms on the couch and pushed himself to his knees.

The fire assaulted his insides and he whimpered, but…

But whatever Lotor had pushed into him…

It was helping. It didn’t hurt as much.

Sitting though, he found out a second later, hurt a lot and he felt tears spring to his eyes as the plug pushed further into him before he found the strength to push himself onto his knees to relieve the pressure.

And Lotor…

Lotor was  _ watching,  _ barely a few feet away and lips curled with amusement that only grew as he caught Lance’s eyes. 

“Carry on,” he made a motion with his hand as Lance remained kneeling, completely exposed from every angle. 

He ducked his head so he didn’t have to see Lotor.

Only himself.

His own body made him sick. 

His own touch made him flinch.

He made himself wash though, wiping away red and purple and even his own milky white, because if he didn’t then Lotor would and…

“Good boy,” Lotor said, stepping forward and offering a bucket for Lance to put the sullied cloth in. “Now time to get dressed. Do you require assistance?”

Lance gave a mute shake of his head.

He wasn’t sure who had done it, but all of his clothes the Galrans had stripped him of had been collected and folded — not ripped, just like last time — and placed on the chair next to his bayard.

Walking to it felt like it took an eternity, his legs trembling beneath him with each step, a sharp ache tearing through him, his stomach churning and the taste of Galrans still on his tongue. 

Lance dressed slowly as every move made his body ache even though he wanted nothing more than to hide himself from Lotor’s gaze. 

When he was finished dressing he didn’t feel any better.

Any safer.

Thinking clothes, thinking his  _ bayard,  _ Lance cast a dull look to it, could protect him…

Only stupid people thought that.

He was so stupid.

“Hm,” Lotor hummed, circling around Lance as he stood there, bayard loose in hand and not even sure it would activate for him now.

He wasn’t worthy of it.

“You look much better but tut tut, Lance, these reddened eyes won’t do. Look up now and hold still.”

There was a rummaging sound and a moment later Lotor was standing next to him, a small bottle in hand.

Eye drops.

Lance held as still as possible as Lotor placed one hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed the bottle, three drops into each eye.

“We’ll give those a dobash,” Lotor said, stepping back as Lance blinked against the sensation of stinging, watching as Lotor put the bottle back into a silver case he’d likely brought with him that contained all of the other supplies. “In the meantime,” he reached in and pulled out a water pouch, “I think a drink would do you good. Here.”

Lance’s hands moved on their own accord, his body going through motions as he accepted it, opened the straw and pushed it into the packaging.

Just like they had to him.

His body twinged at the reminder and his eyes stung with new tears.

He drank the water pouch, both before Lotor could order him to do so and because he did want it to try to take the taste out of his mouth.

“Leave your bag here,” Lotor said, indicating his abandoned duffle, “and I’ll have someone bring it to your quarters. And,” his nose wrinkled, “someone burn that couch. Now come,” his hand landed on the small of Lance’s back. “Let us go to our meeting. And remember, Lance. Smile pretty.”

Lance didn’t remember getting to the meeting hall.

He barely heard Lotor’s introduction — that Lance would be attending but not participating in the meetings — and he’d been instructed into the chair next to Lotor and doing so had him bitting his lip and he’d ended up perched on the very edge of it, arms braced on the table. 

He didn’t follow the discussion at all — something about a farm and later at one point an ion cannon and somehow Lotor had yet to take responsibility for his base having two more than he said they did and yet Lance knew calling him on it would do nothing to Lotor and only hurt himself, but otherwise it was all static — broken up only by hot gazes he could feel on him and Lotor’s hand tight about his wrist and squeezing whenever Lance apparently wasn’t performing as he should.

He felt like he was in a haze, a numb sort of nothingness, and Lance welcomed it because it kept him from thinking and remembering anything else. 

Lance didn’t know how long the meeting lasted but at some point there was the scraping of chairs and people were getting up although Lotor’s hand was still holding his hand down so Lance knew he wasn’t supposed to get up and leave.

He didn’t even know where he was supposed to go anyways.

He didn’t know anything.

Lotor was silent until the last Galran had filed out, leaving just the two of them in the room, the silence deafening.

Lotor removed his grip, settling back into his own chair although Lance still remained perched on his.

“Stand up, Lance,” Lotor ordered and Lance both shakily and gratefully did so. “Now,” and Lance looked to see Lotor’s fangs pulled back into a smirk, “lean over the table.”

Lance blanched.

Wh-what?

“Lean over the table, Lance,” Lotor’s eyes narrowed. “ _ Now.”  _

The consequence if he refused to was unsaid but Lance heard it loud and clear.

He slowly leaned forward, elbows sliding on the smooth surface.

“More.”

The table edge pushed into his stomach.

“More.”

Lotor didn’t let him stop stop until he was lying with his entire chest flush against it, head on his arms, and legs trembling beneath him, and it grew worse as he felt Lotor push back his own chair and step behind Lance.

Just, just like the couch where they’d…

“L-Lotor,” he whimpered as hands landed on his waistband and too slowly, too gently, began to slide his pants and shorts down.

“Quiet. Do not speak until I allow it.”

Lance bit his lip, tears brimming instead, as Lotor pulled his clothes down to where they pooled around his ankles, and then prodded at his thighs to get Lance to spread his legs wider, knowing any minute someone could open the conference room door and he’d be seen like this and, and…

Lotor’s hand landed upon him and he felt a twinge before there was movement inside of him followed by a  _ pop  _ and he flushed anew as he realized Lotor had just pulled the plug out.

Something wet and warm trickled down his leg and Lotor hummed, prodding at it.

“Still green,” he observed. “Looks like you’re in need of another cube,” he said. “One tick. Do not move,” his voice grew harder as Lance shifted and he froze.

Lance couldn’t see Lotor behind him but he could feel the  _ thud  _ through the table as Lotor set the case atop it and, humming, sorted through it. And even though he knew it was coming a few seconds later there was still no preparing as Lotor  _ pushed  _ another cube back into him, cold and wet and Lance hated it but it felt  _ nice _ , and then resecured the plug. 

Another wet cloth landed on his rear and Lotor rubbed it across him, down his legs, and then setting it aside pulled Lance’s pants and shorts back up, just as slow and gentle as he’d taken them down. 

“All right,” Lotor gave his rear a gentle pat. “You can stand up now.”

Fighting back the sob Lance did.

“Good boy,” Lotor smiled at him although there was nothing kind about it. “You are doing very well, Lance. I think you’ve learned a lot from today’s lesson. Do you agree?”

Lance barely managed to nod his head.

“Use your words, Lance.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Yes, Emperor Lotor.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes,” he whispered. “Emperor Lotor.”

“Excellent,” Lotor nearly purred and hands lighted on Lance’s shoulders. “I am very proud of you, Lance. Even foolish boys can learn, can’t they? Now,” his hands tightened. “It is time for our next meeting with the Tovian delegates and you will do both Voltron and myself proud, won’t you, Lance? You won’t disappoint me?”

Lance shook his head.

“Excellent,” Lotor said again. “And,” Lotor leaned down, his breath and hair tickling Lance’s ear and he shuddered, “if you do well I shall make sure you are properly rewarded. And if you don’t…” Lotor let out a soft laugh. “Then I hope you are ready for another lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Lotor. Once more putting himself in this position of a "savior" and justifying all of his own actions as "helping" Lance. I have a firm line when it comes to assault fics that I will never write the main cast (which does include Lotor) sexually assaulting one another no matter what outside sources (magic, mind control, etc.) may be involved, but I do feel that Lotor would be someone to still use the situation to his advantage and further cement his manipulation. And then being forced to thank someone, even if the end result is healing (and the amount of doctors and trainers and those in "medical" positions who get away with this because it's "for your own good" is horrifying), for assaulting you? Can this situation get worse? (yes. yes it can.) Can it get better (and soon)? (yes. yes it can.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left a comment last chapter, it means so much to hear from readers ♥ If you have a moment please do consider leaving a comment down below. Thank you so much for your support ♥


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning notes: sexual content ahead**

Lessons and rewards, Lance learned, were practically the same thing.

A reward was Varion pinning him down in a chair after a meeting and sucking on Lance until he came because “he wanted this” because he’d smiled attentively during a treaty discussion.

Punishment was Kajik chaining him to his bed and thrusting himself in over and over again because Lance hadn’t known the questions Lotor had grilled him on after the council meeting.

Reward was Lotor giving him a massage as Lance lied naked on his bed in the middle of the night.

Punishment was Ulat forcing himself down Lance’s throat until he gagged and vomited.

It was a blur.

No where was safe.

Lance couldn’t lock his doors, Lotor had had him punished when Ulat reported finding the couch shoved up against the bedroom door, couldn’t escape as he was escorted everywhere, and the one time he’d summoned his blaster — although the relief that it had formed and not remained in its locked form had been short lived — when Kajik had come in, waking him up with a hand over his mouth and a hot body atop his, had resulted in all three of them coming together to somehow squeeze inside of him.

Lotor had let him have the morning off as the gel cubes did their work and Lance had been forced to express how grateful he was for the generosity Lotor was showing him.

He knew Lotor was in contact with Voltron and one time he’d joined in on a group conference with Coalition members, but he had not spoken and Allura had only beamed at him in the one time their eyes had caught over the transmissions and she had looked so _proud_ of him.

Lance had averted his eyes first. 

But, but now, going on four days...

He had a chance.

Lotor had needed to speak with Shiro and Lance had of course been there too as Lotor loved parading Lance in front of any camera but especially in front of Voltron, but then Lotor had been called away by a serious looking guard and it had to have been important enough that Lotor had excused himself from the transmission, squeezed Lance’s shoulder, and left the room.

And this…

This was going to be Lance’s _only_ chance to get out of here. He, he didn’t know if they would want him, a weak, pathetic whore, back on Voltron, but…

But he had to get out.

He had to.

“Shiro,” his voice didn’t even sound like his own, too high and breathy, “can… can we t-talk?”

Shiro frowned at him across the transmission although the expression looked concerned over anything else. “ _Everything okay?”_ he asked.

Lance paused.

And gave a small shake of his head.

“Can, can I come back? To Voltron?” he whispered. “E-early?”

“ _What’s going on?”_ Shiro asked, frown growing.

Lance gave another shake of his head.

 _“Lance, you have to talk to me,”_ Shiro said. “ _You’re there as an ambassador to Voltron and you can’t just leave without a good reason.”_

But Lance couldn’t tell him the truth.

Shiro could never know.

And especially not now, not after Lance had willingly come back here.

A stupid, foolish whore.

“I, I just want to come h-home.”

“ _Lance,”_ Shiro’s eyes narrowed. _“That is not a good reason.”_

Lance knew it wasn’t.

But, but it was all he could say.

“I know,” he whispered,” he whispered, pleaded, hands curling into fists on his thighs where claw marks and bruises were hidden beneath his pants. “But, Shiro, please. I, I can’t—”

“ _Lance!”_ Shiro’s voice was sharp and Lance flinched. “ _You took on a position that you are required to see through. Barring an emergency it would be completely uncalled for for you to desert your post,”_ and Lance flinched again at the reminder of what had started this newest nightmare. _“Is this an emergency?”_

Lance gave a small shake of his head.

Not really.

Even though...

“ _Then—”_

“Shiro,” Lance interrupted, desperation growing because he had to get out, he had to keep it secret, he had to _escape,_ “pl—”

“ _Enough!”_ Shiro nearly roared and Lance recoiled from the camera. “ _Enough, Lance. You will do your duty, complete your ambassadorship, and you will return to the castle at the end of the week and not a moment sooner. Is that clear?”_

Lance’s eyes stung with tears.

Shiro didn’t seem to take any notice.

Or, or maybe he just didn’t care.

That hurt more than anything else had before.

Lance gave a nod he barely felt himself make.

 _“Good. Then I’ll see you_ and _Lotor at the Coalition briefing tomorrow.”_

And Shiro ended the call.

Lance stared numbly at the black screen.

And then his eyes widened as he caught sight of not just his own reflection mirrored back but Lotor’s.

Oh no.

Oh _Dios_ no.

“That,” Lotor’s fangs revealed themselves in a smirk and hands landed on trembling shoulders, “was a test, Lance. And you...” his breath warmed Lance’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine, “failed.”

The hands tightened.

“It appears it is time for another lesson.”

xxx

Keith scowled behind his Marmora mask as he heard yet another snicker following him down the hallway towards the hangars.

He was not that fucking short.

Even though, for a Galran, yes, yes he was.

He wondered what they’d say if they found out he wasn’t purple beneath the mask and as much as he hated wearing it he was glad in hindsight Kolivan had been so insistent he do so when visiting Lotor’s palace. The Empire may be their allies, Kolivan had said, but the Blades had survived this long by protecting their identities and there was no harm in taking precautions.

And, Keith was loathe to admit, hiding the fact he didn’t appear outwardly Galran was another precaution because even in the Blade he’d seen ugly looks directed his way and there was no use making issues because of his heritage when there didn’t need to be. He was simply at the palace to drop off some intelligence and be on his way.

At least the Empire soldiers had acknowledged his status and while he’d had an escort to the control room to drop off his materials they had not insisted on returning him in the same fashion to the hangar and so Keith was making his way back there without someone looming a foot over him.

He descended the steps into the visitor’s hangar wing, taking his time as he knew he had a three hour flight back to base and as much as he enjoyed flying his legs and back were starting to protest the sheer number of hours he’d been putting in of late, glancing at open hangar doors to see what other ships were parked in them.

A flash of red in one had him uncharacteristically stumbling because it couldn’t be, but…

But he had not imagined it.

The Red Lion was parked sans particle barrier in a hangar of the emperor’s palace.

Did that mean Lance was here too?

Keith took a step into the hangar, feeling a strange sense of both nostalgia and remorse as he hadn’t piloted Red in, in forever, and yet he had connected with the Red Lion in a way he had only ever allowed himself to with Shiro; open and honest and perhaps, in ways, even moreso.

He missed her.

“Red,” her name passed his lips before he could hold it back.

And then he was barely holding back a shout as Red’s consciousness — even hotter than he remembered — slammed into him and despite the fact he wasn’t her pilot, hadn’t been even before he left, and he shouldn’t still be this deeply bonded to her, he felt everything.

Shame and guilt and despair and concern and anger and fear and he stumbled for the second time in a matter of a minute as he had _never_ felt Red project like this.

And, he realized a second later, that not all of that was coming from Red.

This…

This was _Lance._

Red _roared_ in his mind, urgency racing like wildfire, with a plea that was her but he’d again never felt Red like that, felt her shame and guilt so prevalent.

Help him, she roared. 

Help him where she couldn’t. 

Where she had _failed_.

And for Red to say that, to feel that, the proudest of all the Lions, who never admitted fault…

Despite the fire thrumming through him Keith felt a pit of ice forming in his stomach.

What had happened?

“Where is he?” he asked instead and he could feel her approval around her pain at how quick, how straightforward he was.

And she seared an arrow into his mind, the thread that connected her to Lance.

Keith turned on his heel and ran after it.

He drew both his luxite blade and the other sword the Blade had given him, well aware he looked like he was armed and ready to attack and not caring.

Red was crying in his mind and he could feel her fear and Lance’s and it was overwhelming.

He needed to get to Lance. He needed to find Lance _now._

He and Lance were friends, Keith could say that, and they’d grown closer in the time Keith served as the Black Paladin, but he hadn’t really spoken to Lance in weeks, probably closer to months.

What… what had happened in that time?

Why was Lance at the Galra Empire?

Why was he so _scared?_

Red’s arrow led him down hallway after hallway, fortunately encountering no one to demand he stop, as metal gave way to carpet and he realized as his steps slowed that he was in the living quarters, and nice ones at that.

Lance was a guest of the Empire?

Red led him to a door with a keypad outside of it.

The ice in Keith’s stomach grew.

Because these keypads could only be accessed by Galrans and this one indicated it had a match on the other side.

Lance wasn’t Galran.

Which meant…

He couldn’t leave this room unless someone was with him.

What was going on?

Keith silently let himself in, steps slow now as he could feel this was not a situation to rush in. There was a sitting room laid out in front of him, dark and empty, but there was light in the room beyond and…

And noises.

Keith crept closer, heart roaring in his ears that he told to shut the fuck up.

It stuttered to a halt as he peeked around the door frame.

No.

What was…

What was this?

Lance was there as he’d expected.

But…

But he was completely naked, on hands and knees on a giant bed, with a large Galran — Commander Kajik, Keith placed faintly from transmission calls — just as bare behind him, hands on Lance’s hips and thrusting himself into Lance with grunts and moans and draped partly over Lance’s back. Another Galran Keith didn’t recognize was in front of Lance, legs spread, and his dick was rammed down Lance’s throat, his own body jerking and his head thrown back, eyes closed, and one hand tangled and twisted in Lance’s hair and dragging his face forward.

A third Galran, Commander Varion, was lying next to them, clearly pleasuring himself to the sounds being made next to him. 

And even without Red’s echoes of Lance’s emotions taking up residence in his head to tell him how Lance was feeling, Keith could see it.

Lance was _crying._

He was in _pain._

He was _scared._

This, this wasn’t for pleasure. This wasn’t some fetish Keith had been (gratefully) unaware of.

This was…

This was…

This was _rape._

These Galrans were raping Lance.

Keith let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a roar and he _charged._

Three sets of yellow eyes immediately turned in his direction, Lance’s body giving a jerk but held fast by the hand in his hair, but there was no fear in those sharp gazes.

As though…

As though they weren’t doing anything wrong.

As they they had nothing to be afraid of.

Keith didn’t give a fuck.

And they were going to be afraid.

He threw his knife.

The Galran holding onto Lance’s head let out a _scream_ as it sank into his chest and he was pushed backwards, not a kill strike but it still had to hurt and it did its job as his hand released Lance’s hair and the rest of him came free out of Lance’s mouth with a choked gasp on Lance’s end and then heaving sound.

Keith had already turned his attention to the other two, sword raising up and—

And he froze as Kajik leaned more over Lance, shoving in deeper, and wrapped two hands around Lance’s neck and _squeezed._

Lance made another choking sound, entire body trembling.

“What’s going on, little Blade?” Kajik rumbled. “Want to join the party?”

He was still thrusting his hips forward.

Keith saw red.

“Get off of him,” his voice was a snarl, eyes only on Kajik’s cruel yellow, mask distorting the sound of his voice so it sounded even more guttural.

Good.

“You want a piece too?” Kajik smiled. “There’s plenty to go around.”

“Get off of him,” Keith repeated. “Or I will make you.”

“Ooh, scary,” Varion grinned, sitting up. “I like a little spark. What do you say, loverboy?” and he _slapped_ Lance’s rear, “how about we add a Blade to the mix? Tell me, little Blade, are those luxite the only blades you’re carrying?”

Keith growled.

Lance trembled.

Red roared in his mind.

“I think this little Blade knows our loverboy,” Kajik said, eyes narrowing although tone still light and playful. “Don’t you?”

And Keith saw it, the moment Lance’s trembles froze.

Because Lance wasn’t stupid. There was only one Blade he personally knew, only one person who might have stumbled their way in here.

And Keith hated that he saw Lance’s cheeks flushing with shame.

No.

No, this wasn’t…

But, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“I think,” Keith spoke, “that you need to leave. _Now.”_

“And I think you need to learn some manners,” the stabbed Galran said, voice tight with pain, and he pulled Keith’s knife free with a spray of blood. 

Keith raised his sword.

They wanted to fight?

Good.

Fight and he would kill them without a second thought.

“This one’s got quite a bit of bark,” Kajik said, looking Keith up and down and he only glared harder even if they couldn’t see it behind his mask. “You want to kill me, little Blade?” 

“With pleasure,” Keith snarled.

Kajik let out a laugh. “I can smell the killer intent coming off you and,” he let out a sigh, “this wasn’t how I saw my day going.” He sighed again, giving a wiggle of his hips. “This mood has ruined the fun for me.”

He released his hands from Lance’s neck and then pulled back, exiting Lance with a wet _pop_ and Lance collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut on the bed. “Enjoy, little Blade,” Kajik smiled at him. “You’ve won your prize.”

He backed himself off the bed, not even trying to cover himself, and picked up a discarded robe and following his lead the others began to move and pick up robes as well, although they were shooting scowls at Keith.

Lance didn’t move.

“Ulat, give the boy back his blade,” Kajik said as they circled out of reach of Keith and his still raised sword. “We don’t want to be accused of theft, now do we?”

The implication was clear.

They didn’t think there would be repercussions for what Keith had just seen them doing.

Which meant…

Keith’s eyes widened.

Which meant Lotor knew about this.

He’d known and he was okay with it.

Keith swallowed down the sudden taste of bile on his tongue. He’d never liked Lotor much either, but this…

This was a new level of despicable. 

Keith’s blade, still covered in blood was thrown at his feet.

“Have fun, little Blade,” Kajik smirked. “And be good, loverboy. Remember your lessons.”

And with parting laughs they left the bedroom and the sound was cut off to the door closing.

Silence echoed here.

Lance still didn’t move, face hidden in the bedding.

Keith dissolved his mask and took one, hesitant step forward.

What…

What did he do now?

“Lance?” he called quietly, letting the other boy hear his real voice and identifying himself with it if he hadn’t yet already known and he saw how Lance tensed, how slender shoulders shook. 

He didn’t say anything.

Keith took a few more steps forward.

His eyes lighted on the bundle of kicked up bedding and he reached forward, grabbed a handful of the sheet, and without looking — although he still saw, red blood and milky purple liquid on Lance, on the sheets — because Lance deserved at least some measure of privacy, and dropped them atop Lance to cover him. 

Lance finally moved then, legs curling up under the sheets and arms curling down to wrap around his stomach and Keith caught a glimpse of tear-stained cheeks as Lance’s head shifted.

He didn’t say anything.

Keith didn’t either.

He, he didn’t know what to say or do.

But he did know one thing.

“We have to go back to the castle,” he said quietly.

And Lance finally opened his eyes at that although he couldn’t meet Keith’s gaze.

But there was no relief in red-rimmed dark eyes.

Just fear.

And shame so hot it burned.

“I,” his voice was rough and yet high and he didn’t even sound like Lance, “I c-can’t.”

That was not the answer Keith had been expecting.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle and low even though anger was still thrumming too hot and ready to the surface and what the fuck was with that answer? but Lance didn’t need anger and rage right now.

Keith didn’t know really what he needed but he could eliminate those ones at least. And he was far from the best at comforting people but he was the one here now and Lance had just…

Just been…

And, and Keith had to help him, _protect him —_ and the feeling burned with an intensity that Keith didn’t think was entirely his own — and get him somewhere safe.

Lance gave a small shake of his head. “I c-can’t. They’ll f-find out.”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that.

Lance kept going.

“And, and if they find out then, then all of this was for n-nothing,” his voice hitched. “And, and I know I’m st-stupid. And, and just a wh-whore and a b-body, but—”

“What the fuck?” Keith interrupted him, interrupted the, the _poison,_ spewing from Lance’s lips. Stupid? _Whore?_ “What the fuck are you saying, Lance? They just _raped_ you!”

And Lance _flinched_ at that, another tear trekking down his cheek, and he curled up tighter.

Keith tried to put together what little pieces he had. 

Lotor had known.

Voltron had to know Lance was here given that the Red Lion was here.

They didn’t know about, about _this._

Lotor did.

Lance wanted to keep it that way.

What… what had Lotor threatened him with to keep him silent?

Stupid, whore, just a body…

Red’s shame and guilt.

He glanced to Lance, curled up and, and _small,_ where Lance had always made himself out to be larger than life, with shame and tears staining his cheeks and body still shaking, and even now, even with Keith here, he didn’t feel safe and yet…

Yet he wanted to stay here, had made no move to leave.

Because they — Voltron, the team, Keith assumed — couldn’t find out.

Why?

If they found out Lance had been… Keith swallowed. If they found out that Lotor had allowed this, had, had likely _ordered_ it given Lance’s lack of fight and his fear, then they would be horrified.

Why not tell them?

Why protect Lotor and these Galrans with his silence?

A body. Whore. Stupid.

All of this was for nothing. 

They were related, somehow.

And, Keith felt a sharp pang in his chest as Red flared hot.

Red.

But, but not the Red Lion.

The Red _Paladin._

Paladin.

What was the connection?

Lotor didn’t have authority over the Paladins. He didn’t pick who went to which Lion.

But…

But Lotor _did_ have control over the Empire. And, and if the Empire withdrew from the Coalition, of which Voltron was a key cornerstone, decided to wage war again…

All of this was for nothing.

What…

What had Lance gotten caught up in?

What was all this?

The answers weren’t going to be found here.

And, and Keith knew it wasn’t what Lance wanted but…

But it was what he needed.

The others had to know.

This, this wasn’t okay. Lance wasn’t okay. Keith knew he wasn’t the best person to fix this, but he could get Lance to people who could.

They needed to go.

He left the side of the bed, not sure what to say and probably better to say nothing than make it worse, eyes lighting on a dresser and pulling open the top most drawer to reveal a duffle bag.

A duffle bag with Lance’s armor and bayard right on top.

Right here, and yet…

Yet…

Keith pulled it out, draped it over his shoulder, and returned to his search, slamming out his anger and fear on the drawers.

“There’s,” Lance sounded as Keith forcibly shut the third one, voice wavering, “there’s nothing in them.”

Keith turned to where Lance had slowly sat up, hands tight in the sheet now wrapped all about him but even in that glimpse he could see bite marks and bruises in various colors on Lance’s skin.

Lance visibly swallowed and inclined his head towards the floor where the comforter had dropped off and Keith walked over towards it, lifting it up and indeed finding dark colored — Galran style — clothes in a pile. 

He gathered them into his arms and dropped them on the bed next to Lance, who flinched again.

“Get dressed,” Keith tried not to make it sound like a command, tried to keep his voice gentle.

“Keith,” Lance’s hands tightened on the sheet. “I, I c-can’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Keith said in answer.

Lance looked down. 

“I can’t,” he whispered again. 

“You can,” Keith said firmly. 

Lance said nothing, only twisted the sheet in white-knuckled hands.

“Now get dressed,” Keith said, harder this time because Lance needed to listen and they needed to go before somehow Lotor came here as Keith was pretty sure he would kill him on sight and while he didn’t give a fuck about that he had a feeling the rest of the universe wouldn’t be quite so understanding and the last thing it needed was an all out war. “And I’ll wait for you in the front room.”

Keith picked up his knife, wiped it clean on one of the fallen blankets and then turned his back and walked out, giving Lance as much privacy as he could.

His heart twisted as the silence behind him was broken with a sob that shouldn’t belong to Lance.

And with trembling fists and his luxite at the ready in case anyone dared enter, Keith waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly this story lost over 40% of its engagement from last chapter, hence why this update took a little while as I've noted before it's harder to post in circumstances like that, but thank you so much to those who did pop in ♥ Even a short and sweet comment just so I know you're here reading means a lot. This update would have been out a little later still but I was really excited for this chapter and wanted to share it. Anyone else have a reaction when the perspective switched to Keith? ;) Lucky number thirteen for the win :) Story had a request for a confrontation of Shiro yelling at Lance at some point in the fic and for Keith to discover Lance being assaulted and stop it, and very pleased with how it all came together :) If you have a moment it would mean a lot to hear from you and what you thought of the chapter. Thank you :)


	14. Fourteen

Keith was piloting Red.

It felt like another dagger twisting inside of Lance, but at the same time…

It was right.

Keith deserved to be the Red Paladin. 

Lance deserved to be a cargo pilot.

Or, or maybe…

Maybe just a whore.

He huddled down in the corner of the cockpit, wrapped in the emergency blanket, and if he tried hard enough maybe he’d disappear into it.

Then he wouldn’t have to face everyone and their disappointment and their anger.

Shiro’s anger.

He shuddered. Had it really been not even two hours ago he’d tried to ask Shiro to come back?

What would Shiro say now when he did return? He’d told him he had to stay till the end of the week and Lance was disobeying and he was going to be so  _ angry.  _

But, but Keith wasn’t leaving without him and Lance was terrified of what Lotor would do to Keith — would he kill him? Lance couldn’t honestly say yes or no — and that was what had prompted him to shakily get dressed, pausing in the bathroom to rinse out his mouth — Lotor had even gotten him a cup, wasn’t that so kind of him? — and then join Keith in the front room.

He couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith had said nothing as he opened the door — his hand activating the keypad without issue — and he walked next to Lance, his blades drawn, mask back on, the entire way to the hangar.

No one stopped them even though Lance knew they passed a few Galrans.

Lance had stopped short though as he entered Red’s hangar and she had  _ roared  _ both inside his mind and out and her guilt and fear and concern had been overwhelming and he’d flinched back from it and he realized then, in that second, who had sent Keith to his room.

Keith and Red really did make a good team.

They belonged with each other.

Lance just belonged to other people.

He had been in no condition to pilot and Keith had gently, tentatively, asked if it was all right if he did so.

Lance hadn’t been able to say yes, just nodded his head.

And Red…

Red had lit up under Keith’s hand like they’d never been parted.

It was a three hour ride back to the castle, Keith had said quietly, looking at the coordinates in Red’s system. He could contact the castle for a wormh—

No, Lance had whispered.

It wasn’t an emergency.

Wormholes were for emergencies.

Keith’s jaw had clenched at that, a vein visibly ticking in the side of his neck.

But he’d nodded and set the course for piloting.

Other than getting Lance the emergency blanket and a water pouch they’d spent nearly the entire trip in silence.

That was fine with Lance.

He still didn't know what to say.

He felt so…

His cheeks heated and he hid them against his knees.

Keith had seen him. Doing  _ that.  _

And, and Keith had been so  _ strong.  _ And, and fearless. Whereas Lance…

Just a weak, stupid whore. 

But, even so, being that…

It had given the universe a chance. It had kept the Coalition and the Empire and Voltron all on the same side. 

And now…

Now…

Keith was a witness, he had no reason to lie. They would listen to him. They would believe him.

And then that meant…

Lance didn’t know.

They’d all know though. They’d know how pathetic he was. 

He could never face them again.

Footsteps sounded against Red’s cockpit floor but unlike Lotor’s, while slow, these ones were soft, hesitant.

“Lance?” and Lance had never heard Keith sound so soft and quiet either. “Do… do you want another water pouch?”

Lance thought about it for a second.

He could still taste things, his throat was still raw.

He nodded.

“Here.”

He looked up from his knees to see said pouch being offered, straw already in it, and Keith caught his eyes.

Something Lance coldn’t fully identify stared back but…

But it wasn’t cruel.

And, and the anger lurking there…

He didn’t think it was directed at him.

“Thanks,” Lance whispered, taking it and drawing it back into the folds of the blanket.

Keith didn’t leave.

But he did crouch down, sitting across from Lance so he was no longer looming, and obviously trusting Red to pilot herself.

He didn’t say anything though, didn’t demand answers as Lance had been expecting once they were out of the palace.

“Can I join you?” Keith asked quietly.

Lance gave a small nod.

Keith could sit wherever he wanted.

This was his Lion now.

Keith scooched across the floor, leaning up against the cockpit wall, but a few feet from Lance.

He said nothing.

He did nothing.

Just sat there.

Sat there with him, asking and wanting nothing.

Just…

There.

Lance’s eyes stung. 

Keith didn’t offer any empty platitudes, didn’t even try any words of comfort that would mean nothing, kept his gaze forward even as Lance sniffled and pressed his face back against raised knees.

And this, Lance realized, was Keith’s comfort.

And….

And it was both very mullet-y and very, very much what Lance needed right now.

They sat in silence for the next twenty dobashes until a  _ beep  _ went off on the main console, indicating they were approaching the castle and that the Red Lion’s hangar door would open for them.

Keith got up without a word to direct them in.

Lance remained huddled in his blanket. He knew he couldn’t stay there forever, but…

But maybe he could.

He winced as Red touched down, a sharp ache stabbing through him at the jostle, and then winced more as he heard Keith getting out of the pilot’s chair again and stop in front of him. “Come on,” Keith said quietly. 

Lance gave a shake of his head.

“Lance,” Keith’s voice hardened a hair. “Come on. Just,” his voice gentled again, “just to your room, okay? And I’ll, I’ll get Shi—”

Lance couldn’t stop the shudder and Keith broke off.

When he spoke next it was scarily flat.

“Does Shiro know what happened?”

Lance gave the tiniest shake of his head.

He could practically feel Keith’s relief at that, but there was still confusion, still a sliver of something else as to why Lance had reacted that like.

He just…

He couldn’t have told Shiro before. And, and now that he’d practically begged to come back and Shiro had told him no?

He couldn’t. 

He, he didn’t want to be yelled at again.

“Hunk?” Keith suggested quietly. “Can I get him?”

Lance didn’t want Hunk to know either. Hunk would be so scared and hurt and Lance couldn’t do that to him, but…

But Hunk was his brother.

Hunk made him feel safe. And, and he couldn’t hide this as he was right now and he didn’t want to lie to Hunk again. 

He gave a tiny nod.

“And…” Keith swallowed. “What about Coran?”

Coran?

“I, I think we… we need an adult, Lance. And if not Shiro and, and I don’t think you want Allura,” and Lance gave a shake of his head at that because  _ Dios  _ no, Allura was the  _ last  _ person he wanted to know, “then I think Coran would be… if, if that’s okay with you.”

It would have to be okay, Lance realized. Because he couldn’t ask Hunk to keep this secret, knew Keith wouldn’t, and everyone was going to find out how  _ pathetic  _ and  _ weak  _ and what a  _ slut  _ he was, but…

But if he had to tell someone now then, especially when Coran had already offered and had picked up that something wasn’t quite right…

Then…

He gave another nod.

“Okay,” Keith said, relief clear. “Okay. Then let’s go in.”

Lance took the emergency blanket with him.

Keith walked slowly, scouting out hallways as though to make sure no one was coming, and Lance felt a surge of gratefulness because if he got found in the hallway right now he was not ready to try to explain.

They made it safely to Lance’s room where Keith put Lance’s duffle down as Lance stepped in, standing awkwardly in the middle.

“I’ll, I’ll go find Hunk and Coran, okay?” Keith said, shifting his weight in the doorway.

Lance nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

He needed to go.

He needed to stay.

He knew what had been happening was wrong, but…

But if he said something now and they believed him then…

Lance ended up grabbing a pile of his quilts and sinking down on the floor, huddled against the far wall between his dresser and closet, with them.

And not sure what he was supposed to do or say and feeling sick thinking about it, Lance closed his eyes, buried his head in his blankets, and waited.

xxx

Keith found everyone in the training hall.

They were running drills by the look of it, no one wiser to the fact he and Lance had landed as while it would have come up on security feeds and the castle entry log, it would not have made any alert since the Red Lion was programmed to come and go.

“Keith!” Hunk’s voice rang out, spotting him first, cheerful and light and Keith hated that he was about to ruin that but Hunk had to know and Lance needed him at his side. “What’re you doing here?”

Hunk was crossing the room to him then, Pidge abandoning the tire obstacle course with a, “thank fucking God,” that under any other circumstance would have made Keith grin but his face felt like it was etched into a permament frown, and Shiro, upon seeing that everyone was stopping called out for Coran to halt the timer, although as they grew closer to Keith he could see smiles giving way to matching frowns.

“I need to talk to you,” Keith said, meeting Hunk’s eyes, who for his part nodded, looking unsure but serious. “And you, Coran,” he looked over to where the Altean advisor was joining them.

“What’s going on?” Pidge asked, voice hot but there was a waver there as she knew for Keith to show up, unannounced, had to mean something.

“Can it wait until after training?” Shiro asked, frowning himself. “We have about a half hour le—”

“No,” Keith interrupted and he hoped it didn’t come off as rude as he sounded but the fact that Shiro wasn’t seeing that something was  _ wrong  _ was making his skin prickle and emphasized by how Lance had flinched at his name. “I need to talk to them now. And, and it’s private,” he said, meeting Pidge’s eyes. “I’ll… I’ll explain later, if I can.”

“Is everything all right?” Allura asked, worry creasing her brow.

“No,” Keith said bluntly and her eyes widened ever so. “It’s not.” He looked back to Hunk and Coran and inclined his head. “Please.”

They followed Keith without question out of the training hall, and as predicted, Hunk began to speak first.

“Keith, what’s wrong? What, what can I do? Is it something with the Blade or—?”

Keith held up a hand. “Not here. Just...just follow me, okay?”

“If I may ask one question,” Coran said quietly as they resumed their trek through the halls. “How did you bypass the castle’s security?”

Hunk sucked in a sharp inhale.

Keith made a mental note they really ought to up their security here in the event he was actually some crazy clone or something sent to infiltrate.

“I came in the Red Lion,” he said. 

“The Red Lion?” Hunk echoed. “But Red’s at the palace with…” Hunk sucked in another inhale. “It’s, it’s Lance, isn’t it? Oh God, what happened? Is he okay? What—?”

“Hunk,” Keith cut him off again and Hunk’s lips pressed together. “Just… just wait. Please. And,” he swallowed, “just…”

Prepare yourself?

He shook his head at that and kept walking.

Now that they knew Lance was involved it was suddenly a much quicker walk to the Paladins’ residence hall and Keith stopped them outside of Lance’s room and he arm-checked Hunk as he made to go right inside, Hunk letting out an  _ oof  _ at the impact.

Keith raised his other arm and gave a soft knock on the door. “Lance? It’s Keith. And Hunk and Coran. Can we come in?”

No answer.

“Lance,” Keith knocked again, harder, and the icy clutch came back to his stomach as had Lance left? “Can we come in?”

And that time Keith picked up the faintest sounds of rustling and a sniffle and then a “yes,” that was barely audible to even Galran hearing.

But it was an answer and it was enough.

Keith took a breath, heard Hunk gulp, and pushed open the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had one of my favorite sets of lines in the whole story; any particular lines stick out to you? Thank you to all who popped in last chapter; I was very touched and as a thank you got this chapter out in **three days** , a new record for this fic :) As I've said before, authors don't know you're reading unless you leave a comment and having that engagement is really important. While I know I certainly love long, in-depth comments, I appreciate the short and sweet thank you or a few words too because it lets me know you're here, reading and engaging, and that makes it far easier for me to post again. I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter; lots of little nuances and moments and even though Keith hasn't been around the castle I love that he knows immediately (after the Shiro debacle, oof) who to bring in. We're getting our boy help and I am so so happy ♥  
> (p.s. crazy clone sent to infiltrate, snort sob)


	15. Fifteen

Lance winced as the bright light of the hallway spilled into his darkened room and he ducked his head to both avoid it and the stares he could feel as they located him tucked away and Hunk’s breathless inhale of his name.

But no arms wrapped him up in a hug, no hand touched his head, and a peek up revealed that Hunk had stopped in the middle of the room, looking torn, but mostly looking scared and concerned, with his arms wrapped about himself.

As though he knew without Lance saying anything that right now one of his patented hugs couldn’t fix this. 

“Why don’t we all sit?” Coran suggested, voice both gentle and light and so so _kind,_ and Lance ducked his head his head back down into his drawn up knees. 

He heard them do so, heard Hunk unbuckling and setting aside his armored chestplate and arm guards; what they always did when they were preparing for a longer meditation session or one of Shiro’s training module scenarios they used to do all the time but now that Lance was thinking on it he couldn’t remember the last time they had done one.

But thinking of Shiro made him think of him yelling and that made him think of Lotor overhearing and then…

Then…

 _Dios,_ he couldn’t do this.

“Lance,” Keith sounded then, firm and yet pleading, “talk to them.”

He couldn’t.

“Take your time, my boy,” Coran said gently. “Whenever you are ready.”

He’d never be ready.

He couldn’t do this.

He gave a shake of his head against his knees.

“Lance, tell them,” Keith said. “Or… or I will.”

Lance jerked his head up, betrayal twisting in his chest, but Keith’s gaze was resolute as it met his. “They need to know,” he said. “You know that.”

And just like that Lance slumped back down, defeated.

Keith was right.

Of course he was. Because Keith was smart whereas Lance was just a stupid whore.

But…

But he couldn’t get the words out.

His tongue felt frozen, too big for his mouth.

Too big just like—

He whimpered, hiding his face again as he felt his cheeks heat at the memory and his hands tightened on the blanket.

“Fine,” Keith said. “I’ll tell them.”

Lance wanted to stop him.

He didn’t want to stop him.

He said nothing.

He was such a _coward._

Keith was so _brave._

Of course Red would prefer him. 

He heard Keith take a breath. “I don’t know everything,” he led with. “I, I don’t know a lot. But,” he swallowed. “I know what I saw. And I saw…” he paused and Lance heard Coran give a gentle murmur. “At Lotor’s palace I saw three Galrans...” he paused again, as though waiting for Lance to say something.

He kept his face hidden.

He said nothing.

So Keith did.

“I saw them raping Lance.”

Hunk made a choking noise and Coran inhaled sharply. 

Lance hunched over further.

“And,” Keith continued, “and based on what they said and who they were, two of them for sure commanders, I think… I think Lotor knows. And I think…” he swallowed. “I’m pretty sure that… that this wasn’t the first time they did this.”

He fell quiet then and Lance wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not for it because if Keith was talking then he wasn’t and…

“Lance,” Coran’s voice was heavy and yet gentle. “Is this true?”

Lance could deny it.

It would be pointless.

It was obvious now.

He gave a small nod against his knees.

“All of what Keith has said?” Coran clarified, and Lance couldn’t even be startled by the use of Keith’s actual name from Coran.

He nodded again.

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk whimpered. _“Hermano…”_ he let out a sob. “Wh-why would… why would…?” he trailed off with another sob. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered, barely audible to even himself into the silence.

He didn’t know what else to say.

“Lance, no,” Hunk choked out. “Don’t, don’t say that.”

Lance shook his head, refuting Hunk’s words.

He was sorry.

He was sorry he was so weak and pathetic and because of him the Coalition was now in trouble.

He’d just…

He’d just wanted to help. He’d wanted to protect people. He’d wanted to prove himself.

All he’d done was learn how stupid and weak he really was.

Maybe Lotor really had done him a favor.

His own shoulders shook with a silent sob and he was still grateful that no one was touching him.

He couldn’t be touched right now. Not even a gentle, kind one.

“There…” Coran’s voice was thick, “there are many things I wish to say right now, but… but most importantly at this time… I must ask this. Lance, lad… you can answer with a yes or a no, but… but are you hurt, right now?”

Lance gave a tiny shrug.

He, he knew he was, but it wasn’t as bad as times before, and the bruises and scratches were all background pain now.

“Were you ever given treatment following such…” Coran struggled on the word, “acts?”

Lance nodded, feeling his cheeks heat at the remembrance of the cubes that Lotor had applied several times over the course of the week.

“Were you ever tested for any possible transmitted diseases?” Coran continued.

At that though Lance shook his head and heat gave way to pale cheeks.

He, he wasn’t…

He hadn’t caught something, had he? 

“I think,” Coran’s voice lowered, “that it would be best to conduct a quick exam. I can contact a doctor within the Coalition—”

“No,” Lance interrupted, raising his head.

Three sets of heavy eyes stared back, Hunk’s streaming tears and Coran’s overbright. 

Keith just looked angry.

“Pl-please,” Lance whispered, looking at Coran. “I, I don’t want anyone to… to t-touch me.”

“I understand, lad,” Coran tried for a smile that didn’t come close to meeting his eyes. “But if there is something… we do not want it to hurt you anymore. Do you understand?”

A tear trickled down Lance’s cheek even as he nodded.

He knew.

But, but…

But he didn’t want some stranger, some other person, knowing what had happened to him. He felt ashamed enough now, if somehow people in the Coalition found out…

“What if I did it?” Coran offered quietly and Lance’s eyes widened. “I cannot claim to be a doctor, but I could certainly run some samples and swabs through the lab and I know enough of human biology from the pod readouts that I know what would be… would not be right if I were to look.”

Lance trembled.

He didn’t want that either.

But, but…

But if something was wrong and he was a coward now, then...

He gave a tiny nod.

“Brave lad,” Coran murmured.

Lance shook his head to that. “I’m not,” he whispered, eyes lowering. “I’m… I’m just st-stupid. A,” his voice hitched and he closed his eyes. “A stupid whore.”

Silence echoed.

“Who said that?” Hunk’s voice was low and dangerous and Lance shivered at the sheer _rage_ that he’d never heard from Hunk before. “Who said that to you?”

Lance just shook his head.

“Lance,” Hunk’s voice cracked, a complete opposite of a moment ago. “Pl-please. Talk to me. _Háblame, por favor._ What, what happened? Why did…? Wh-why?” he ended with.

Lance pressed his face back into his knees.

He knew Hunk would defend him, would tell him not to think that.

But, but it was true.

It had been proven to him time and again. 

Talking about it would make no difference.

“You said to me,” Keith spoke, “when I found you that… that if Voltron found out that you’d been raped,” and Lance flinched, “everything would be for nothing. And those Galrans… they told you to remember your lessons,” and Lance recoiled at that, not aware of what the conversation had been behind him because as soon as he’d realized that _Keith_ had found him his thudding pulse had taken the place of all other noise. “And, and they implied Lotor knew about this and, I think…” Keith took a breath. “He’s the one who ordered this, isn’t he? These, these lessons? To teach you that… that to him you’re just… just a body.”

Lance’s heart began picking up tempo.

He, he had said a lot, hadn’t he? In his panicked babble and Keith had of course put it together because Keith was smart because he wasn’t a stupid, useless whore. 

“Keith, what are you saying?” Hunk whispered as Lance said nothing to the contrary. “That, that the ambassador position—?”

“What?” Keith interrupted him. “Ambassador?”

“Lance was offered the position of ambassador of Voltron to the Galra Empire by Lotor earlier this movement,” Coran said, voice even and giving nothing away, “following a mission of Lotor’s design in which Lance had previously argued against and visited the Empire to meet with the Galran High Council to discuss it,” but as he spoke Coran’s voice was growing more horrified, “where upon Lance changed course and supported the mission in full.”

“Oh God,” Hunk whimpered as he was no doubt thinking back to how Lance had acted after the mission.

How averse he’d been to touch, how skittish.

How quickly he’d changed his mind.

They all had their answer now as to when Lance had learned his first lesson.

When he’d first been raped.

And he’d been stupid enough to go back.

“And during the mission,” Coran continued, “a transport ship Lance was to be guarding was blown up when he went to Hunk’s aid. Despite the loss to the Empire, Lotor was most gracious, and sought to make the best from the situation, but…”

But that wasn’t what had happened.

Lance had been summoned to be punished and he’d…

He’d gone.

“Why?” Hunk whispered, the question addressed at large.

Lance was the only one who could answer it.

And, and they had gathered this much…

“Because,” his voice was a breath. “Be-because I just… I thought…” he shook his head.

No.

It wasn’t that.

He was just stupid.

Stupid and foolish and naive.

Not innocent though.

Not anymore.

Never again.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispered instead.

“Stop saying that,” Keith growled. “Godamnit, Lance. You’re not stupid and—”

“Yes I am!” the words burst forth and Lance couldn’t seem to stop them as they spilled like bile. “I am stupid, oh-okay? I went b-back. I went back after, after they’d…” he could feel his cheeks heating through his tears. “I thought it would be different. I thought I could prove myself, make Voltron pr-proud. I thought,” he hiccupped, “I thought this time if, if they tried anything I could defend myself. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. And, and they… they…” he shook his head. “I’m a stupid, worthless, whore and, and the only thing I’m good for is my body.”

“Bull fucking shit,” Keith snapped at him, on his feet and looming and Lance shrank back.

It only seemed to make Keith angrier.

“Lotor is goddamn fucking piece of shit,” Keith snarled. “And you _are_ an idiot if you believe one fucking word he says.”

“Keith!” Hunk sounded horrified. 

“No,” Keith swiped a hand through the air. “He wants to believe he’s some, some stupid slut? Because _Lotor_ told him? Because some shithead council members told him that when _they’re_ the ones that assaulted him? Because some fucking bastard took advantage of the fact that he’s,” Keith’s voice hitched and Lance realized Keith’s eyes were sparking with tears, “that he’s one of the goddamn nicest people in this goddamn universe? That he’d do anything, _anything,_ if he thinks it’ll help someone? To keep anyone else from getting hurt? Which," Keith's voice hitched again, "apparently means getting _raped_ because he's not good enough for anything else? That he thinks he deserved it? He wants to believe all that from those types of people who don't give two fucks about him? He wants to believe them over, over us? Over the fact not one but _two_ Voltron Lions chose _him?_ That everyone here, when Lotor suggested this ambassador position, thought he could do it? Then let him fucking believe what they said and I’ll call him stupid too.”

Keith’s chest was heaving and his eyes were flashing as he stared down Lance.

Lance was speechless, his heart somewhere in his throat. 

What had just…

Just happened?

Keith thought that about him?

That, that Red choosing him after Blue had was…

Was admirable?

Keith took a ragged breath.

“Did you know the first time you went there what Lotor had planned?” he asked, quieter.

Lance gave the barest shake of his head.

“Did you consent to it?”

He shook his head again.

No.

No he hadn’t.

Not once.

But, but his body had…

It had reacted and they told him that meant he’d wanted it and he hadn’t but… but…

Lance could feel his cheeks heating.

“Lance,” Coran said quietly. “Our bodies… what they do and how they react does not mean it is how we _feel._ Fear can cause our bodies to have reactions. Drugs and even medicines can too. And touch, especially to sensitive areas, does the same.”

And Lance knew that.

That’s what he’d told himself.

But…

But still.

“Did you want to have sex?” Keith asked, even quieter than before. 

They told Lance he did. They’d said that over and over. That he wanted this, that his body was made for it, that that was what he was good for.

But had he wanted them to touch him, even once? Even when his body told him that it felt good?

He shook his head. 

“Then that’s rape,” Keith said. “And that’s _wrong._ What, what happened to you… that was _wrong,_ Lance. And Lotor knows it.”

“Keith’s right,” Hunk’s voice was shaky and he cast apologetic eyes at Keith for the earlier outburst before they flicked back to Lance and he fought to hold them. “He’s right, _hermano._ And, and whatever Lotor told you… he lied, Lance. I, I don’t know why he would… would do that, but… but he didn’t want you to tell anyone and you d-didn’t because you were scared and, and ashamed, but… but none of that was your fault, Lance. None of it. And, and choosing to believe that someone can be — should be — better and, and giving them a second chance… that’s your heart, Lance. And,” Hunk’s voice hardened. “Lotor is going to regret ever hurting you.”

Lance’s eyes stung at the declarations of support, of the understanding.

Of, of even though he _was_ stupid and naïve, that…

That they didn’t think this was his fault.

But…

“Don’t,” it came out a whisper and Lance gave a small shake of his head. 

“Don’t?” Hunk repeated, frowning.

Lance swallowed. “The, the Coalition—”

“Fuck the Coalition,” Keith snapped. “Goddamn it Lance, think about _yourself.”_

“He unfortunately does have a point,” Coran said quietly, guilt swimming in his eyes. “However, actions have consequences, even for emperors of the Galra Empire. And somehow,” he caught Lance’s gaze, “we will make this right.”

And for the first time in nearly a week the smile Lance made, small and shaky and a shadow of what it normally was, lined with tears and a sob, wasn’t fake.

It was real.

And, and maybe, if he let himself believe their words instead of Lotor’s and the Galrans, then...

Maybe he wasn’t just a stupid whore after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter how many times I write these type of scenes it never, ever, gets repetitive or old as I know how important this message it and it makes my heart warm every time to see that love and support ♥ It was a change of pace though to include Keith as he doesn't tend to feature in these stories (or if he does it's with the whole group) and as I've noted in a few comment responses Keith really was the perfect person to find Lance in this situation and to be there to get through to him. Even without a time jump at this point, Keith has grown up so so much ♥ As always, it means so much to hear from readers. Even a short and sweet thank you or little note (although if you feel up to and have the time to write a longer comment I am so very grateful ♥) is appreciated as it tells me you are here reading the fic. Another super quick update on my end as a thank you to all those who engaged with the story last chapter. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you ♥


	16. Sixteen

Keith had taken it upon himself the task of gathering everyone else and explaining, in the most abbreviated terms what had happened to Lance, while Lance, Coran and Hunk went to the infirmary to perform the exam. 

And that was something Keith knew he shouldn’t be present for. Coran had said he’d go quickly but it was sure to still be invasive and the less people there the better, but having someone for support and possibly distraction was a good idea. And while that strange, burning sensation to _protect_ Lance at all costs was still taking solid residence in Keith’s chest, he knew that he and Lance did not have that shared history where having him there would make Lance feel more comfortable.

However…

Before they’d left, Lance wavering a bit on his feet and now somehow with three blankets wrapped around him, had caught Keith’s eye and while pink had dusted his cheeks he’d held Keith’s gaze and whispered, “ _Thank you. For… for what you said. And for, um…”_

_“Don’t thank me,”_ Keith had retorted and Lance’s expression had fallen. _“Just… just listen to us. Believe us. Not, not Lotor.”_

And Lance had given a tiny nod.

Lance had shared a few more details — filling in the name of the other Galran Keith hadn’t known — and said they were doing it under Lotor’s orders, but…

But that didn’t make it right.

Hunk had exchanged a look with Keith at that and Keith knew the same relief was reflected back in his face. He hadn’t been lying when he said that Lance was one of the nicest people he’d ever met. Granted, he hadn’t always seen the other boy that way but he’d come to learn that there was a lot more to Lance than the loudmouth braggart he projected himself to be and he’d seen firsthand how Lance would bend over backwards to make someone smile, to help anyone who crossed his path, put himself in danger to protect others, and…

And offer to step down from Voltron to let others he felt were more qualified to take his place.

Keith kicked himself for not seeing that conversation for what it really had been; Lance scared and looking to Keith for reassurance that he did belong and Keith…

_“Leave the numbers to Pidge.”_

God, _he_ had been so fucking stupid. 

But Lotor hadn’t been.

He’d used Lance, preyed upon those fears, and in the course of a few days had actually made Lance believe that he not only deserved to be assaulted but that he wanted to be.

It was sick.

And almost sicker was the fact Lotor seemed to have instigated this entire set up over the mere fact that Lance had disagreed with him and, Lance had mumbled the next bit, had feelings for Allura. Although, if (when) she found out…

Then the only one she would be disgusted with was Lotor, Coran had cut in smoothly although his voice had been darker than Keith had ever heard it. 

And, Lance had whispered, cheeks high spots of color, Lotor had told him that all of this…

It was a favor.

It was to help him. 

Lotor was lucky that for the moment Keith was more concerned about Lance than ripping Lotor’s head off because he’d do it in a heartbeat, after removing some other particular body parts first. 

There was someone else though he wanted to beat upside the head and that person was within the castle.

Shiro.

And Keith had never thought he would think that. Shiro was his brother, his savior, his protector. Even after he’d been forced to kill and fight in the Galran’s Arena, been tortured and hurt and seen and done things no one should ever bear witness to, he had still been the same person Keith had always looked up to. But when he’d come back from his second capture he’d been different and Keith had understood that captivity and torture could change a person, had given Shiro space and done whatever he could to help him readjust. But apparently the best thing for Shiro was for Keith to leave — and he had almost forgotten that sting, that hollow ache, but it was back in full force now — Voltron and not look back.

So he had. Anything for Shiro.

But Lance had told him he’d spoken to Shiro just earlier that day, and had, without admitting anything, asked to come back to the castle and Shiro…

Shiro had yelled at him. He’d told Lance he wasn’t supposed to come back until the end of the week and Lance… he didn’t say it but Keith could practically feel it.

Lance was afraid of angering Shiro. 

That was not okay.

That didn’t sound _anything_ like the Shiro that Keith knew, but not only did he trust Lance’s word completely, he’d seen it for himself in the training hall. 

Something wasn’t right with Shiro.

Shiro got along really well with Lotor, Hunk had put in quietly, Coran confirming it, and whether that was enough to explain away both Shiro’s behavior and his suspicious to anything Lotor or Lance had said or done, or maybe the last time in captivity or even a combination of both Keith didn’t know, but it wasn’t okay that Shiro had acted that way. The only thing that reassured Keith even somewhat was Lance was insistent that Shiro didn’t know what was happening at Lotor’s palace (and if he did, so God help him because Keith would never, ever, forgive him). 

As for Allura suspecting anything… Well, Keith wasn’t obtuse and he’d seen in group Coalition calls how Allura and Lotor looked at one another. She would not want to believe that of Lotor.

Keith didn’t care.

It had happened.

Lance had been hurt. He had been scared. And he had suffered all alone.

And it would never happen again.

So while Keith (and Lance, even as he’d winced and flushed) had known that ultimately Shiro and Allura had to be informed of what had happened (and why Keith had volunteered to tell them because Lance did not need to repeat that all again and he was not putting Lance in the same room with Shiro until he’d determined for himself that it was safe for Lance), they had one sticking point.

Pidge.

She was barely fifteen, a minor, and despite what horrors they’d seen in space she had ultimately been shielded from some of the worst. 

But she should know, Lance had said quietly. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a child, she could infer enough. And keeping this from her would do more harm than good. But, just… he’d turned pleading eyes to Keith. Could he not share… share details? At all? That he didn’t want her to know.

Since Keith hardly had any actual details as Lance had been close-lipped other than to say “a lot” to Coran’s query of how many times he’d been assaulted other than what he’d witnessed (and Keith could guess enough from just that encounter) he was happy to keep it that way.

And Keith had all three gathered now, not difficult given they’d all been in the kitchen still in armor and looking rather unsettled, which was honestly a good thing as they should be after his announcement in the training hall

He just…

Wasn’t entirely sure where to start now.

Be blunt?

Ease them in?

“What the fuck is going on?” Pidge demanded and Keith shuddered out a breath, answer at hand. “Where are Coran and Hunk? Why—?”

Keith held up a hand. 

Blunt.

Honest.

Go. 

“Coran and Hunk are in the infirmary,” he said, “with Lance.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Lance?” Allura and Pidge echoed at the same time while Shiro said nothing although his eyes widened ever so. 

“Is he all right?” Allura interjected before Keith could continue. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly and Allura paled. Keith realized how that might sound. “He’s not in mortal danger,” he tried and that didn’t seem to be doing any better. 

He took a breath. “Just… just let me finish. Without interruptions. Please.”

All things considered very calm for him and it seemed to work as Allura gave in incline of her head and Pidge remained silent although her hands tightened inside one another.

“I came with him in the Red Lion from the Galra Empire palace,” Keith continued. “I was there dropping off documents for the Blade when I found the Red Lion in the hangar and she…”

No details.

Not like that.

“She indicated that Lance was in distress,” Keith continued. “And directed me to him. Where I found Lance being raped—”

Allura made a sound of distress and Pidge gasped out a, “what?”

Shiro was silent but a glimpse towards him revealed his face had gone pale.

Keith continued as though there had been no pause.

“By three Galrans who are all on the Galran High Council. And,” his voice hardened, “they were doing this on Lotor’s orders.”

If Allura had been pale before she was nearly white now.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No. That, that is not possible. Lotor would not—”

“He did,” Keith interrupted her. “Multiple times. All week. He lured Lance there to discuss some mission and then brought him back for the ambassadorship. He’s been having Lance assaulted this entire time and, and making him think he deserved it, telling him it was for his own good. He told Lance he wasn’t worthy to be a Paladin and this was punishment for thinking he could.”

Allura shook her head again, but it looked to be less in denial and more in shock.

It hurt to see but Keith was glad she was at least taking this seriously.

“Keith, that’s ridiculous,” Shiro had found his voice. “Lotor is our ally. He would never—”

“He did,” Keith snarled and his heart ached as Lance had been worried they wouldn’t believe him and they would defend Lotor and Keith hated that he had been right.

Not stupid at all.

“Is it possible,” Shiro tried again, voice too even and Keith’s hackles rose at it, “that it was consensual and Lance changed his min—”

“I saw it,” Keith snapped, eyes flashing, even as his heart tightened more because what was Shiro saying how was this Shiro? “He was _crying._ They were _hurting him._ He was _terrified._ And it was not fucking consensual.”

Shiro didn’t say anything to that, face blank, but his left hand was trembling ever so at his side.

“If,” Allura’s voice was wavering, “if what you are saying is true… then why has Lance never spoken of this?”

“Why would he?” Pidge said quietly, looking up and catching Keith’s eye and he saw both horror and resignation staring back and he knew in that moment telling Pidge had been the best choice. “ _How_ could he?” Her voice grew hotter. “You two don’t want to believe him,” she gestured at Shiro and Allura. “And if you did, what then? Does the Coalition fall apart? Does the Empire become the enemy again? Does one sick bastard and his equally sick minions ruin what everyone else has tried to do to end this war? Or do we keep playing nice with the asshole who, who,” her voice wavered, “who h-hurt Lance? Do you,” she looked directly to Allura, “keep loving him? Do you,” she looked to Shiro, “keep listening and following him blindly? Will you two wake up? Lotor has his own agenda, he’s _had_ his own agenda, and it’s time to take off the fucking rose colored glasses.”

Based on Allura’s slight pinch of confusion at the end of Pidge’s speech Keith had a feeling she didn’t know the last phrase, but the rest seemed to have driven the point home as she took an abrupt seat at the kitchen table.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Shiro said, although he wasn’t outright denying it wasn’t true. “Why would Lotor do something like this?”

“Because he’s a sick bastard?” Pidge put in helpfully. 

“Pidge said it already,” Keith said, “Lotor has an agenda. What it is, I don’t know. I don’t know how this factors into it, if it even does. But what’s true right now is he hurt Lance and he would have gotten away with all of it if I hadn’t been there.”

And as Keith said it he realized how true it was.

Lance would have tried to hide what had happened as best he could, even if that meant secluding himself, if it meant hurting himself, and he would have never told anyone.

And that was almost the scariest thing about all of this.

“I…” Allura stood. “I need to speak with Lotor. I cannot believe that he would, would allow this, but…” She shook her head. “I must speak with Lotor. I must speak with Lance.”

“Lance can’t talk right now,” Keith said bluntly, and he was prepared to forcibly step in if she insisted.

Lance was in the middle of an exam and even when it was finished it was Lance who got to make the decision to seek them out.

Allura nodded.

“Of, of course. I understand. I…”

Keith had never seen Allura at such a loss.

He felt a pang of sympathy for her. 

Pidge had said rose colored glasses but for Allura… love had turned her blind. 

He wondered what else she may have missed because of it.

Shiro though…

“I also need to speak with them both,” Shiro said, and while his voice was flat there was something else luring on his face.

Guilt.

No doubt thinking of the message Lance had sent earlier and correlating it to what Keith had witnessed.

It was a start.

“Then call Lotor,” Keith said. “I’ll be here.”

“Me too,” Pidge said quietly and Keith startled as he felt one of her hands slide into his own and squeeze it.

He squeezed back.

“We shall return,” Allura said and there was something both sad and hard in her expression.

She looked like she was preparing to go into battle. 

She looked like she was preparing to have her heart broken.

And Keith felt a surge of hope that no matter how hard the truth was to hear… that Allura would hear it and she would listen.

And while it wouldn’t fix what had been done, what Lance had suffered…

It was a start.

And that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Kuron. My heart breaks at his response. Unfortunately, in these circumstances, such is often the case and the support we saw last chapter is the rarity. People don't want to believe that a friend, a loved one, is capable of such horrors and, unintentionally, they'll seek to cast blame to the victim. Even questions like Allura's 'why did he say nothing earlier?' make it hard for victims to come forward because there's a sense of disbelief in such a query. And that's why I had Keith once more being Lance's advocate here; Lance is not in the right mindset to have to talk about this all again and to this kind of audience (even if we do see them come around, that initial reaction would have been beyond painful and everything Lance feared). Plus, honestly, I am not letting Lance in the same room with Kuron!Shiro until Shiro's come a bit more to his senses because that would be a harmful environment and the opposite of what Lance needs and Keith realizes it too. And with that text wall over, I'd love to hear from you down in the comments below with what you thought of the chapter ♥ And while I always adore long, detailed comments, even a short and sweet one means so so much as it tells me that you were here and reading my story and that engagement is definitely helping me keep up this pace of quick updates and thank you for that and for your support ♥


	17. Seventeen

“Almost done,” Coran murmured. “You’re being very brave, my boy.”

Lance just squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his grip on Hunk’s hand, and tried not to move as Coran took a last swab of his insides.

Coran had done as much as he could to make Lance comfortable; the exam table covered with one of Lance’s quilts and a pillow beneath his head and a sheet over his lower half that moved depending on where Coran was conducting his last test. Lance’s front ached from where Coran had inserted a small swab since Lance had admitted with color on his cheeks that the Galrans had sucked on him, and now, since the Galrans had discharged inside of him, he was collecting those samples after collecting a few from his mouth and throat.

It didn’t really hurt all that much, Coran being gentle as well as quick, but…

But it was uncomfortable and he kept flinching even though he knew Coran was helping him and Coran had said he could stop but Lance just wanted it done and over with.

Coran had also been concerned when Lance told him of the gel cubes as he’d asked, if Lance felt comfortable sharing, what treatment he’d had, because those cubes, while effective for multiple injuries, should be used at most once a movement as they could lead to a bevy of side effects. 

And Lotor hadn’t used just one.

At, at least eight Lance had whispered. 

Hunk had looked like he was going to cry and Coran’s expression had been nothing short of murderous before he’d swallowed it back and told Lance not to worry; if there were side effects — generally an itching, burning sensation at the affected area, migraines and swollen toes — they would deal with them, but it was promising that Lance was reporting none of those and perhaps for humans the effects were purely medicinal.

It was at least one positive thing to hope for.

Coran had also dotted a salve on the numerous cuts and bites, bandaging a few of them, and the bruises to help them heal faster, and he’d given Lance his prescribed amount of the alien aspirin to help with lingering pain and stiffness.

There was some minor anal tearing, Coran had reported, but it would heal on its own with limited activity and rest. He’d prescribed an antibiotic he’d approved of to help ward off any potential infections in the meantime.

“All done,” Coran said a few minutes later as Lance felt the swab pulling out and Coran’s hands lifted away and dropped the sheet back over him. “All done, lad. How… how are we feeling?”

“Okay,” Lance whispered, curling up more under the sheet.

He didn’t really know what else to say.

It was over now.

Hunk squeezed his hand, the one and only touch he’d allowed, and he was glad he had because Hunk’s hands were large and warm and so, so, different from the Galran’s.

These hands were safe.

Lance clung tighter.

Coran stepped away from the table, a tray with numerous vials with swabs in them, in hand. “I’m going to get these going in the lab,” he announced softly. “I would advise against a shower for a few hours to let the salves permeate, all right?”

Lance nodded.

Showers didn’t do anything really anyway and baths now terrified him.

All of the water just made him feel dirtier as it dripped down the backs of his legs and lapped at his skin. 

“Good lad,” Coran smiled and the words, while similar to what Lotor told him, contained none of the mockery or condescension.

Just concern.

And care.

“If you need anything just pop your head in, all right? You might have to shout a bit, the machine is rather loud.”

“Thanks, Coran,” Hunk answered for them both.

Coran nodded and excused himself. 

“Hey,” Hunk squeezed Lance’s hand. “Ready to get up?”

Lance nodded.

“I’ll wait outside,” Hunk said and Lance’s eyes stung at that because nudity had never been taboo for either of them and yet Hunk was giving him that privacy now because he knew how much of it had been taken.

 _“Gracias, hermano,”_ Lance whispered.

Hunk nodded as well, squeezed Lance’s hand once more, and exited the room.

Hunk had gathered clothes for Lance — comfortable sweats and his favorite baseball tee and both his jacket and a roomy hoodie and after a moment Lance selected the jacket even if he did zip it all the way up when he normally didn’t — and socks and his sneakers, of which Lance forewent the latter as they felt too clunky when it felt like he was practically wearing pajamas. 

He wouldn’t mind sleeping, actually.

But…

But before that…

He swallowed.

He, he needed to see Shiro and Allura. He didn’t want to, _Dios_ he didn’t want to, but he needed to.

He was still so grateful that Keith had said he would talk to them first because for one he was terrified Shiro would yell at him if he saw him before he could even get a word out and assuming he did manage to talk he didn’t think he could repeat it. Once was hard enough and that was to the people he felt most comfortable sharing things with (and… and he wouldn’t have ever added Keith to that group before and his brand of comfort wasn’t something Lance was familiar with but… but he’d said what Lance needed to hear and even though it had shocked him… it had made something warm settle in his chest that Keith, his rival and whose shadow Lance had always chased, could say such things about him, especially when he knew Keith wasn’t all that good or comfortable with conversation in general). 

Shiro and Allura were completely different and no matter what everyone had said…

Lance still felt ashamed.

He still felt like he’d done something wrong. That, that his body had.

That some small part of him still thought Lotor was right. 

Because he _had_ been stupid. He could have, should have, told someone the first time what had happened. Yes, he had been weak. Yes, he hadn’t been able to get free, to stop them.

But…

But there had been three of them. All larger, all stronger. They had been prepared.

Lance had not.

And, and after that?

Lance was still underprepared. He was scared and off balance and confused and they had used that against them. Lance had thought that, once, how his silence would protect Lotor.

It had.

But, but he hadn’t been silent now.

Although…

His hands tightened in the cuffs of his jacket.

If, if Keith hadn’t walked in…

He wouldn’t have said anything.

The thought made him feel even more sick.

He’d have kept protecting Lotor. He’d have kept getting hurt, even if he never went back to the palace. Lance would have convinced himself this had been a favor, that it was for his own good and…

And that was so _wrong._ A, a favor was helping someone else.

Lotor had only helped himself.

And, and if Lotor could do that to him, an ally… what would he do to people he considered his enemy?

What kind of person was Lotor, really?

Lance shivered. 

And, and when Allura knew…

Would she still love him?

Would she refuse to believe Lance? 

He wanted to say she wouldn’t, but… but Lotor had a way with words as Lance knew firsthand. He’d used fear and shame to control Lance and he could use love and sincerity to control Allura.

But, but Allura was smart. She wouldn’t fall for it.

Unless…

He swallowed.

Unless she didn’t want to see the truth. And, and in that case… she wasn’t the person Lance admired.

He wouldn’t know though until he left the infirmary and while there was safety in the unknown it was making him feel sick.

It was time to go.

Hunk greeted him with a small smile as Lance stepped into the hallway although Lance could feel his own fell short. 

“Keith said he was going to try to gather everyone in the lounge,” Hunk said quietly. “We can try there first? Or, or if you wanted to wait a bit—”

“No,” Lance interrupted. “I, I need to… to see what they…”

“Okay,” Hunk agreed quietly. 

But when they reached it no one was in the lounge.

“Kitchen?” Hunk suggested. 

Lance nodded.

And that room had lights on and while there were no voices there were sounds — sort of violent thuds that he wasn’t sure what that meant — and Lance’s feet came to a halt.

He… he didn’t know if he was ready.

What if they hadn’t believed Keith?

What if…

What if they did but they didn’t _care?_

And, and Pidge… he knew she’d believe him, but… 

But what would she think of him?

He took a breath.

There was only one way to find out. 

No more being scared.

And Lance entered the kitchen.

Where the only occupants were Keith and Pidge, both standing at the counter armed with small mallets, a basket of space walnuts (with even tougher shells than Earth’s version) between them, and smashing said walnuts.

Pidge saw him first.

“Lance,” she whispered, and Lance was alarmed to see tears sparking in her eyes. She didn’t approach though, didn’t fling herself in one of her stranglehold hugs at him, didn’t ask him if he was okay (because he wasn’t and Pidge of course wasn’t stupid to assume otherwise), and didn’t ask if he wanted to talk about it, and instead held out the mallet. “Want to smash a walnut?”

Lance silently stepped up and took the mallet, even though he just held it in his hand, having no doubts as to what exactly Pidge was envisioning as she smashed away, and it both made his lips twitch and his eyes burn, and her support and love was clear without having to say anything.

Classic Pidge.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he whispered. “But, um…”

“Shiro and Allura went to the bridge,” Keith said. “They wanted to call him.”

Lance’s eyes lowered.

He’d known, of course, that that was likely to happen. 

But at the same time… he’d sort of hoped they would just believe Keith’s account.

“We can go too,” Pidge said, “if you want. And,” she picked up the mallet Keith had put down and smashed it against her opposite palm, winced, and said, “I’ll make sure no purple asshole is on the screen.”

“That’s okay,” Lance said. “I’ll, I’ll wait. How long have they…?”

“They left about fifteen minutes ago,” Keith said.

The bridge was about a five minute walk from the kitchen which meant they were likely still talking to Lotor.

Lance, even with Pidge’s offer, didn’t want to walk into that.

And in the meantime…

There was someone else he needed to speak with.

Red.

Because without her Keith would never have found him and she had been concerned enough about him that she’d connected to Keith again. And, and while Lance could feel her love for Keith, her longing for him as her Paladin…

He had felt her guilt too, her own shame at her actions that had created a divide between herself and Lance. She had been scared and concerned for him. And while Lance knew he wasn’t the best Paladin she’d ever had…

She _had_ chosen him.

He’d never thought about it like that, what Keith had said. That two of Voltron’s Lions had found him worthy to pilot them. And, and if he hadn’t been worthy then Red would not have done so. And that meant… that meant after all this, that Lance was Red’s Paladin.

And she…

She was his Lion.

And he owed her both a thank you and an apology.

“Then I think I’m going to go visit Red,” Lance said quietly.

“If it’s all right,” Keith said, “I’d like to talk to her too.”

Lance nodded.

They all had things to say and he wasn’t going to keep Keith from the Red Lion. “You can visit her, you know,” he offered. “She’d really like that.”

And Keith’s lips pulled into a sad sort of smile but he didn’t say anything.

“Can I come too?” Pidge asked. “Not for the Red Lion part, just…?”

Lance nodded again.

He didn’t mind Pidge’s company. It was comforting.

To his amusement Pidge brought the kitchen mallet.

They were a quiet procession as they left the kitchen, cutting down a staircase and then angling to go through the main receiving hall as it was the fastest way to the Red and Green Lion’s hangars, Hunk at his side, Pidge in front, and Keith a step behind as though he was watching Lance’s back even here.

It felt a bit like he had a guard and it made something warm settle in Lance’s chest. They had all believed him without question, that he had done nothing wrong, and that Lotor was the one who should be ashamed. 

He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t worthless and…

And he wasn’t just a body. 

He was the Red Paladin. And, and he’d earned that title, that role, and nothing Lotor said or did could take it away. Red had chosen him, Blue had chosen him, his team was there for him and that was what mattered.

And while it didn’t make things right it made them better and Lance’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. 

And then it and his steps froze as voices from the receiving hall sounded.

And…

And he knew that voice.

“—so very concerned and came here straight away after he could not be found—”

Lotor.

Lotor was _here._

“—did not wish to raise alarm as the Red Lion was missing from her hangar and the only one capable of— Lance!”

Lotor broke off as he, along with Allura and Shiro, rounded the corner into the hallway where they had all stopped. 

“ _You,”_ Pidge snarled, mallet raised, which was more words than Lance was capable of speaking at the moment, and she took a step forward while all Lance wanted to do was retreat, his gaze darting from Lotor to Allura — she looked unsure, which was telling enough because Allura always looked confident, and a tad pale and as she caught Lance’s eyes open concern flooded her features and he ducked his head — to Shiro — who was more impassive than Allura but his brow was drawn and unlike when he’d spoken to Lance on the transmission he looked less angry and more… more confused than anything, “You sick, fucking bas—”

“Pidge!” Shiro cut her off, putting himself between Pidge and Lotor as though he was afraid she was about to assault the emperor.

Lance faintly thought she would.

“What the fuck, Shiro?” Pidge scowled. “You’re going to protect _him?”_

“If I may,” Lotor smoothly cut in, stepping out from behind Shiro and towards them and Lance tried not to flinch back and he heard Hunk give a low, warning rumble at his side, “I believe there has been some terrible misunderstandings and some even more grievous actions committed. But first, and most importantly, Lance,” purple and yellow eyes met his, swimming with nothing but concern, “are you all right?”

Lance stared, heart roaring in his ears.

What?

What was…?

“We had believed you kidnapped,” Lotor continued, concern and horror dripping from every word. “A masked Blade assailant was seen leading you at swordpoint from your quarters where I found signs of an absolutely _brutal_ assault upon yourself. I sounded the alarm, but the Blade member seemed to have hijacked you along with the Red Lion and—”

“Shut up.” 

The words were a low growl and Keith stepped out from behind Lance, clearly in a Blade uniform and with two swords glittering by his sides. 

“Shut up, you sick fuck,” Keith took another step forward, even now with Lance. 

And for the briefest moment something flickered across Lotor’s face.

Surprise.

He had not expected the masked Blade to be Keith, to be someone who actually knew Lance and not some unknown entity he could try to pin blame on (and turn Voltron against the Blades? Would they have? What _was_ Lotor trying to do?).

“Lotor,” Allura spoke, her voice both soft and firm and every eye turned to her.

Lance’s heart raced.

What would she say?

She, she couldn’t believe that, right? Keith was right here. Keith would, would _never…_

“Keith has told us a very different version of events,” Allura said. “And,” she raised her chin even as her hands trembled at her sides, “he is the Blade member you spoke of and I know for a fact he is not guilty of the crimes you accuse him of. Which means someone else is.”

And Lotor, as always, spun right into a new tale of more honey-dipped poisonous lies.

“My apologies, princess,” Lotor said, and it felt telling to Lance that he didn’t even spare Keith a glance, “I seem to have been misinformed. Which can only mean that one of my own staff has lied to me in an attempt to conceal this assault. I assure you, I will find the one responsible—”

“No need,” Keith interrupted Lotor. “We’re all looking right at him.”

Lotor drew himself up, affront clear. “I beg your pardon? You are accusing _me_ of such uncouth behavior towards—”

“Yes,” Pidge snarled. “We fucking are.”

“Dear me, what wild stories you spin,” Lotor shook his head. “However, all of this can be cleared up very easily. Lance,” sharp purple and yellow eyes met his, warning clear, “do inform your friends of how outlandish these accusations are. Have I ever done these things to you?”

And no, Lance trembled, Lotor hadn’t.

Not really.

Not himself.

He’d, he’d touched Lance for the medicine cubes, to carry him to the bath, for the massages, but…

But he’d never actually…

And that had been on purpose, Lance realized. Not just because Lotor said he wasn’t interested but because it removed him from the direct assault.

“And there you have it,” Lotor waved a hand at him, victory clear, at Lance’s silence. “There is nothing to say—”

“Yes.”

It was barely a breath and Lance shook as he said it, shaking more as Lotor turned back to him, as he felt Allura and Shiro’s eyes land on him.

“You, you touched me,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes on Lotor’s face.

He… he was afraid.

He was scared.

But he could still say this, with everyone here and supporting him and they would not let Lotor hurt him anymore.

“You told others to… to,” he couldn’t say it aloud. He swallowed. “To h-hurt me. You knew. You knew what they were d-doing. You ordered it.”

Lotor shook his head. “Lying is not becoming, Lance. I understand you are confused and no doubt scared by what has happened, but attempting to blame me for the actions of others and to accuse me of such horrific deeds after all I have done to help you... You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Lance _flinched._

“That is _enough_ ,” Shiro growled.

But…

But for once those words weren’t directed at Lance and he was pivoting, less between the two groups and standing now alongside Pidge. 

His breath hitched at the action. Shiro had… he believed...

“Lotor, please,” Allura sounded on the verge of tears. “Speak the truth. Did you order an assault upon Lance?”

“I would never, Allura,” Lotor said passionately, words simple but powerful and all that needed to be said.

And he hadn’t, Lance realized.

Not an assault, or at least not one directly.

“What,” Lance’s voice cracked, “what about a lesson?”

And it finally happened.

Lotor’s face flickered with the barest hint of not just surprise, but…

But fear.

He’d never thought this would happen, Lance returning to the castle before the week had been up. Lance didn’t know for sure but he had the sudden sick, frozen feeling he’d have been conditioned just as he had accepted Lotor’s words before to deny and protect Lotor and _believe_ the entire time this was right and okay. 

It wasn’t. 

It never had been.

He’d have thought that though and that was…

That was _terrifying._

But Lotor had miscalculated. 

Lance hadn’t stayed there for a week, not long enough for Lotor to finish what he was trying to mold Lance into. 

And now Lance wasn’t alone, with only Lotor and his poisonous words for company.

Instead he was with people, _Lions,_ who gave him strength.

Who would stand with him.

Voltron was a _team._

And with his team here, supporting him... Lotor’s words lost their power.

He could not talk his way out of this.

“Lance,” Lotor’s voice went soft, “surely—”

Keith stepped forward, fully in front of Lance now and both swords raised. “Don’t talk to him.”

“Don’t look at him,” Hunk said, voice low and more dangerous than Lance had ever heard it before, stepping up next to Keith and nearly blocking Lance’s view.

“Lotor,” Allura’s voice had cleared and was now a line of ice, “answer my question. Did you, in any way, create a situation in which Lance would purposefully be assaulted?”

“Allura,” Lotor turned to her, voice gentle, and Lance realized that for all of his games and poison and half-truths that…that Lotor really did, in some twisted way, love Allura. “Listen to—”

“Answer my question.”

“The role of an ambassador—”

“Leave,” Allura cut him off, a tear trailing down her cheek.

“Allu—”

“Leave, Lotor. _Now._ You are no longer welcome here. Leave or,” Allura grew a few inches, taller now than Lotor, “I shall make you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Lotor asked, eyes wide and the barest hint of hurt in his voice that Lance wasn’t entirely sure was faked.

Allura said nothing, only glaring at Lotor with jewel eyes as hard as diamonds and made sharper by her tears.

“The Coalition needs the Galra Empire,” Lotor said, appealing to reason. “What you are doing—”

“Yes, it does,” Shiro agreed. “But it does not need _you._ Leave, Lotor. We won’t ask again.”

And Lance could see it.

He could see everything splintering apart.

Because of him.

He’d done this.

He, he had to fix it.

He had to—

“Don’t,” Keith said quietly as Lance made to step forward and he froze and Keith looked over his shoulder at him. “You don’t have to fix this, Lance. This isn’t your problem.” He looked back in Lotor’s direction. “It’s his.”

“Voltron will continue to work with the Galra Empire,” Allura confirmed, “with members of the High Council that have met our approval. But for you, Lotor,” her expression cracked, “for _us._ It is over. You have made your decision and I have now made mine. You are not the man I thought you were and what you have done… it is unforgivable. Now get _out.”_

“I pray you come to your senses, _princess,”_ Lotor sneered her title, face an ugly mask, “and see what a fool this foolish _boy,”_ his eyes cut daggers into Lance, “has turned you into. I will show myself out.”

And with a flip of his hair Lotor turned, rounded the corner, and left.

Left their sight.

Left the castle.

And… and left their lives.

Lance’s legs trembled.

Hunk near teleported to his side just as they gave out, catching him before he could fall.

Lotor was gone.

He was gone.

And…

Lance looked at the faces gathered around him, who had all stood by him, stood up for him, and _believed him._

Lotor was gone.

And he would never touch Lance again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our villain has exited stage left. I know there was a lot of hope for yeeting of Lotor, but this story has been about words and their power and therefore it felt fitting to end like this. Lotor may not be physically hurt, but he has lost everything he did actually either care about or need: Allura's love, Shiro's loyalty and the resources Allura and Voltron offered him. He got a bit too greedy with his ambitions, thought a bit too much of himself and his games, and now he has paid the price. I hope everyone enjoyed it :) (And Pidge with a nutcracker jajaja). And, most importantly, Lance found out the power his own words have and the strength to speak them. If you have a moment it would truly mean so much to hear from you. I won't go into it here as you don't want to deal with my personal drama, but it's been a very, very, very long, trying week and reading your kind comments would very much help. This story's engagement (recent chapters, at least) has been one of the few highlights and positive things in my life right now and it's very bittersweet to me to have that coming to an end. Tldr; I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the main wrap up of this story and I'd love to hear what you thought in a comment below. Thank you :)


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